Fawn Silver
by DawnFire and Silver Huntress
Summary: “They were—are—pretty good friends, right?”“The best. And that’s both a good thing and a very, very bad one.”Fawn Silver is a mystery. She goes by many names. Nothing is sure about her, except that she cares about Harry Potter and is sworn to protect him.
1. One

_**Nov. 30, 2009:** A note: I am going through this and doing a light edit on the story and the disclaimers and a heavy edit on the a/ns and formatting. This is mostly for readability. ~DF~_

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**FAWN SILVER TRILOGY**

Part One: Fawn Silver

By: DawnFire

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_Summary:_ _"They were—are—pretty good friends, right?" "The best. And that's both a good thing and a very, very bad one." Fawn Silver is a mystery. She goes by many names. Nothing is sure about her, except that she cares about Harry Potter and is sworn to protect him._

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**DISCLAIMER: **No, I am not J. K. Rowling. I'm not even British. So if you think that I own Harry Potter, I'm quite flattered, but you should go get your head examined, perhaps at St. Mungo's. I hear that they have quite a good program. (A Note-I don't own St. Mungo's! No, really! I don't!). I do, however, own Fawn Silver, the plot-basically, anything you don't reognize as being part of the published Harry Potter series (which is amazing!) Now stop reading reading this disclaimer and start reading the story!

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_A small scrap of paper appeared under the floorboard. 'Professor,' it read. 'Please, if you're on our side...'_

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One

_Harry's Time (Nov. 1981)_

The house was ruined. It was the first thing you noticed—after the fact that you could see the house in the first place. The secret was broken. The Secret Keeper was in Azkaban for murder—if you believed that, that is. And she didn't.

She knew the five from only a few years before. Lily, reluctant to admit she liked James. James, hopelessly in love with Lily. Sirius, slightly arrogant and a mischievous troublemaker. Remus, cursed with lycanthropy, blessed with good friends, studious and afraid of being shunned. And then there was Peter, tag-a-long Peter Pettigrew, who had somehow managed to become friends with the rest.

If Sirius had killed Peter...if that had really happened, then she had become a Death Eater. That was how it stood in her mind: something that was possible, but unlikely. Very unlikely.

She sighed heavily. This tragedy had happened less than two days ago, and it was still breaking her heart. It was also still headline news.

When she had first seen the article in the _Daily Prophet_, she hadn't believed it. Lily and James Potter dead. Their son, Harry, the Boy Who Lived. Voldemort gone.

Sirius Black becoming a notorious mass murderer. Sirius, killing in cold blood twelve Muggles and a wizard. A wizard who had been one of his best friends since they had all started school.

The _Prophet _often lied—but this time it had been telling the truth as everyone knew it.

Lily and James were dead. Harry had survived the Killing Curse. Voldemort had vanished, presumed dead.

And, to all appearances, Sirius was a murderer and Peter was dead.

That was the part that she couldn't quite believe—yet if they were willing to believe what they believed about her, then why not? It was no more ridiculous, really. And there was only a little less proof.

She would have liked to ask Sirius in person, but they didn't trust her. And she refused to go near Azkaban—not that she would have been let in as a visitor—or at least, not as the type of visitor she needed to be. She had no intention of becoming a resident of Azkaban Prison. Not if she could help it.

"Well," she said softly to herself, just to break the silence. "Wonder where they put their wills?"

She knew that they would have kept a copy of their wills around the house, somewhere in it. The question was...

"Where?" she murmured to herself. "Where would they—aha!"

Apparently, under a loose floorboard in the living room.

She unfolded the pieces of paper and began to read.

"As I suspected," she murmured after a few minutes. "Well, Sirius can't adopt Harry, being in Azkaban, and he's already with Lily's sister...who Lily and James both specifically wrote that they didn't want put in charge of their son. Well, I suppose..."

And then she saw something that made her decision for her. A small scrap of paper appeared under the floorboard.

'_Professor_,' it read. '_Please, if you're on our side...please keep Harry safe. If anything happens to us, and to Sirius, keep him safe._'

It was signed, '_Lily and James Potter_'.

She thought for a long moment, fingering the fragment. "A good spell," she muttered thoughtfully. "A charm to keep the wrong eyes from seeing it...Lily cast it, of course."

But in her innermost thoughts, she was already thinking of the cost of houses and what protective charms would be necessary...and how she would get Harry James Potter away from the Dursleys without causing a panic.

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Any comments/criticism/advice are welcome (although I would prefer that you not insult me or my story. Thanks.).

Love ya if you review, still love ya if you even just take the time to read this story,

~DawnFire~


	2. Two

**DISCLAIMER:** I don't own the Harry Potter series. Not even British here. _Capisce_? Much as I like the accent, I don't have it. Sorry to disappoint.

On the other hand, I do happen to own Fawn Silver and any non-canon plot, seeing as I made them up. I also own a few more OCs, but they don't appear until chapter...seven _(now five)_, I believe.

XD

DawnFire

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_"Shunned by all," the witch muttered out loud to herself in disgust. "Even a pair of Muggles." _

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Two

_Harry's Time (Nov. 1981)_

"Whatever you're selling, we don't want any." Vernon Dursley reached out to slam the door in the face of the nondescript mousey-haired woman who had rung the doorbell.

The nondescript mousey-haired woman moved her foot to block the door.

"I'm not selling anything," she replied. "You are Vernon Dursley, am I correct?"

"Does it matter?" Mr. Dursley squinted at her suspiciously.

She ignored him and continued.

"Your wife is Petunia Dursley, formerly Petunia Evans?"

Now Mr. Dursley was getting an unwelcome feeling that his suspicions might be correct.

"Get out and leave us alone!" he roared.

"Vernon?" To Mr. Dursley's horror, Petunia came into sight, carrying their two-year-old son, Dudley.

The woman in the doorway recoiled slightly. "Th-_that's_ not _H-harry_, is it?" she said, looking more than a little horrified.

Mr. Dursley's face, which had previously been a shade of tomato red bordering on purple, turned completely purple and then a sickly shade of grey-white.

"One of _that_ lot, are you?" he practically squeaked. He drew himself up to his full height, shaking from anger and fear. "Get out of this house! Leave me and my wife and my son alone!"

The woman rolled her eyes. "I have no intention of harming you—unless that _is_ Harry Potter. If it is, they might get another excuse to send me to Azkaban—for injury done to Muggles...Not to mention that I'm not even in your house."

Petunia went white and clutched the beach ball-like baby to her. "A-azkaban?" she squeaked. "Vernon—Vernon—I—I think we'd better call the police or something—"

"I'm not here to harm anyone," the stranger snapped. "I merely want Harry. Give me Harry, and I'll leave you alone. You'll never see me again."

"I'm not giving my sister's son to a—a _convict_!"

"She and James very clearly wrote in their wills that they did _not_ want you to take care of Harry!" The woman's voice was rising. "And frankly, I can see why," she added, lowering her voice with a visible effort. She was pointing at Petunia's armload of baby. "I've never seen anything more like a beach ball in my life!"

"How _dare_—"

The woman made a slight motion, and Vernon Dursley was suddenly yelling without making a sound.

"Much better," the woman said with a slight smile that bordered on a smirk. "Shall we all go inside? I prefer not to linger long on doorsteps." She pushed Mr. Dursley aside and swept into the hallway, shutting the door with a flick of the wand she had drawn seconds before.

"So," she continued, turning to face Petunia and taking the Silencing Charm off Vernon with a second flick of her wand as she did so, "would you care to bring Harry down here along with the letter that Dumbledore indubitably left with him?"

Petunia just stared at her for a long moment. Vernon grumbled. "I suppose I'd better get the bloody letter, then. Petunia, get the boy."

Petunia looked as if she would say something, but then a moment later she seemed to make a decision, and, shutting her mouth with a snap, headed upstairs. Vernon disappeared through a door. Both of them gave the witch a wide berth as they left.

"Shunned by all," the witch muttered out loud to herself in disgust. "Even a pair of Muggles." She shook her head with a sigh, and began to wander aimlessly around, eventually stopping to glance at the many pictures that hung on the walls and rested on shelves. All were stationary, and they all showed the same people: Vernon, Petunia, and a beach ball wearing various hats. It took her a moment to realize that the beach ball was actually a baby, and she found herself hoping once more that the beach ball-like baby wasn't Harry Potter. She knew enough about babies to realize that most of them were rather plump-looking, but this was a little too much! Babies didn't normally look like beach balls—unless a beach ball were to have a baby, but, even in the wizarding world, that was ridiculous...although perhaps...if you were to use _piertotum locomoter_ on a pair of beach balls that then happened to fall in love with each other...

Here, Petunia came in with a small, black-haired baby (the witch realized, with a sigh of relief, that Mrs. Dursley must have a child of her own), and Vernon followed her with a letter. Both Dursleys thrust their burdens at her, then stepped back hurriedly.

The woman glanced at the letter briefly before tucking it into a pocket, settling the one-year-old into position on her hip, and grinning at the Dursleys, who stared fearfully back.

"Thanks," she told them cheerfully, after she had inwardly laughed at their fearful expressions for nearly a full minute. "Doubt I'll be seeing you, don't bother to keep in touch, and don't worry, I'll square Dumbledore."

And with that, she turned on the spot and disappeared with a crack, leaving no sign that anyone had been standing in the Dursleys' hallway mere moments before.

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**_-Newly edited as of Feb. 14, 2010-_**


	3. Three

VERY IMPORTANT:

Here is explained in full something that you may have noticed in the previous two chapters.

This story uses four different times, which are as follows:

1. Harry's Time (aka Present Time). _The 1990s, for the most part. The actual story is taking place in this era._

2. Marauder Time. _The 1970s, for the most part. This is the time during which the Marauders and Lily were at school._

3. Unknown Time. _Used in this chapter. You will find out what it is in Chapter 11. It is earlier than Harry's Time and Marauder Time, but later than Founder Time_.

4. Founder Time. _The time of the Four Founders of Hogwarts. 'A thousand years or more ago' from 1994, according to the Sorting Hat (GoF)._

These times will be coming into play a lot. However, please keep in mind that the actual story is taking place in Harry's Time...

~DawnFire~

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DISCLAIMER:

******I. Do. Not. Own. Harry. Potter.**

Yeah, if you think I do, I'm flattered, but you're probably mental. Maybe you're Lockhart, escaping from St. Mungo's...in which case, go bother someone else. Please. If you're not Lockhart (which I hope you're not) please don't be insulted by the fact that I just suspected you of being Lockhart...it was unintentional.

_A Note-funny how I keep on nearly spelling Lockhart Lockhairt (hair-lolz) and getting as far as Lockhai before I catch it...every single time. Weird...but kinda funny, seeing how obsessed he is with hair and image and yada yada...Just a thought._

~DawnFire~

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_Neither knew it then, but they were to be friends for a very long time after that._

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Three

_Harry's Time (Nov. 1981)_

Fawn Silver was furious.

"How dare he!" she snapped out loud, making baby Harry start and turn over in his sleep. She glanced at him guiltily, before putting a Silencing Charm on herself. She turned back to the letter she clutched tightly in one hand, which was the source of her anger. "Stupid, idiotic wizard!" she ranted silently. "Who does he think he is? Not only does he send Harry to live with the people Lily and James _specifically_said they _didn't_ want to have care of Harry, he also casts a spell that makes it practically impossible for Harry to come and live with me! How dare..." she continued to rage silently for a while then finally stopped.

"Hey, wait a minute!" She removed the Charm. "I bet I can get around this...I _must_ be related to them _somehow_, I mean, I'm related to just about everyone else..."

And then she realized something.

"Stupid, no good, interfering..." Harry whimpered, and she wearily replaced the Silencing Charm. When she finally took it off, she just looked at him. "Poor kid," she murmured to herself hoarsely. "The Dursleys would treat him like..." she stopped, not wanting to start shouting again. After she collected herself, she went on. "Sorry kid, I think you'll have to go back to them." She frowned sadly.

A moment later she was staring through Harry, seemingly at nothing. A minute after that, she winced and seemed to see him again. "You're definitely going back," she told the sleeping one-year-old. "If you stay with me we'll just have the house blown up a couple of times, and you'll end up going anyway. I hope Dumbledore knows what he's doing..."

She sighed and picked him up. Harry woke up again as she did so.

"Sorry, Lily, James," she whispered. "I'm really sorry, but I can't keep him safer than he'll be with the Dursleys."

Harry was staring at her.

"Don't give me that look," she told him crossly, "I'm just tryin' to make sure you're safe."

A few waves of her wand and a loud crack later, she was gone.

And so was Harry Potter.

** _Unknown Time_

"You are the most annoying person I have ever met." It was a statement, and spoken surprisingly calmly.

The girl smiled sweetly. "I know, ain't I just? S'one o' me charms." She got to her feet and made him a small, mocking bow. "Sorry I can't stay. Thanks for 'elping me out—though y'_could_ thank me for savin' your life."

"Saving my life?" he retorted. "Puh-lease. I saved yours."

"You?" She laughed, loudly and derisively. "You cou'n't save a muffin from burnin'. You're probably a pampered rich man's son playin' normal. Y'wou'n't know 'ard work iffen it were t'hit y'on the nose."

The boy flew at her.

She disappeared.

He disappeared too.

They both reappeared on opposite roofs.

The girl nodded at him. "Not bad, for a Muggle."

"I'm not a Muggle! What's a Muggle?"

The girl frowned. "I 'ave almost no idea. But they can't do wha' we jus' did."

"So what are you calling me a Muggle for?"

"I thought you was one!"

"After I reappeared on the roof?"

She glared. "Afore that."

He glared back.

They looked away at the same time.

The girl smiled finally. "Truce?" She appeared beside him and held out a hand.

The boy looked her over carefully, then finally nodded and took her hand. "Truce."

They shook on it.

Neither knew it then, but they were to be friends for a very long time after that.

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_Review reply (to an anonymous review that I wanted to reply to) —HardyHarHar_

_Thanks!_

_I don't think Petunia really had a chance to be nasty, but...She could have been nastier, I suppose, but she's sort of...shocked/surprised in that chapter...also kind of scared...I don't know. Edit-I've fixed it now...thanks for drawing attention to that issue..._

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**_Feb. 14, 2010:_**

Previous readers may notice that I've finally combined chapters 3 and 4 (the really short ones that everyone was complaining about :D ). I was going through this, editing, and I finally realized that it really was a good idea. The above chapter is the result. Later on you'll notice that chapters 9 and 10 have also been combined. Thank you to everyone who told me that 3 & 4 were too short, you've helped me make Fawn Silver better. ~DF~


	4. Four

**DISCLAIMER:** Let's pick up a copy of...let's take _Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince_, because it happens to be right next to me. Now, let's look at the cover. Very nice cover. Note Harry and Professor Dumbledore in the middle of a bunch of fire. Very nice, no? Now, if you will, take a look at the name right under Harry's hand: J. K. ROWLING. Now look up on your screen to where it says Author: . Right after the colon (:) there should be something along the lines of DawnFire and Silver Huntress. I happen to be DawnFire. Now that we know which one of DawnFire and Silver Huntress I am, let us compare the author of_Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince_ and the author of _Fawn Silver_, which, in case you forgot, is the title of the story that I am currently writing a disclaimer for. Now, with our superior comparison skills, we shall check to see if J. K. ROWLING and DawnFire are the same person. Do the names match up? No, dear reader, they do not. And so we must conclude that I, DawnFire, do not own _Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince_, or, indeed, any of the brilliant _Harry Potter_ series, but rather only whatever is not recognizable as belonging to the aforementioned series.

This concludes today's class on how to correctly identify authors. Thank you for taking the time to drop by.

Now, if you will, please proceed to chapter 4 of Fawn Silver.

Thank you, and have a nice day.

Yours,

DawnFire :D

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_"He's safer here."_

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**Four**

_Harry's Time (1986 or so)_

"Boy, get out here right now! Your _aunt_ is here!"

The angry voice cut into Harry's dream that he was living somewhere else, anywhere else.

"Boy! Get out!"

"Coming, Uncle Vernon," he managed to call, still half asleep.

And then he realized what his uncle had just said.

Aunt Fawn was here.

He was awake and out of the cupboard under the stairs in less than a minute.

Aunt Fawn was his only real respite from the Dursleys. She would come to visit him as often as she could, which wasn't actually very often, but when she did come she would get him out of the Dursleys' house, usually within five or six minutes. She and the Dursleys didn't like each other very much.

As he pulled a lingering spider from his hair, the voices reached his ears.

"I thought we'd been over this years ago."

That was Fawn. She sounded annoyed, as she so often did when dealing with his aunt and uncle.

"I get Harry out of this house for a day, and you don't impose rules upon me."

"Why don't you just take the boy to live with you and have done with it? You like him a lot better than we do!"

Harry crept closer, wanting to hear Fawn's response.

"He's safer here," she said finally.

Harry's mouth dropped open. From the silence, Dudley was staring and the Dursleys were furious.

"But you've got—"

Uncle Vernon stopped as though making some sort of gesture instead of words.

"D'you really think that'd help? It's all I can do to make sure _I'm_ not—" Fawn must have made a gesture here too, unless she simply broke off. Her voice went on, much softer. "Petunia, you at least should understand this. If _they_ can find Harry, anyone can find him, and if he can be found, then they can also find—oh, hello, Harry."

Disappointed at not being able to hear more, but happy that she was there, Harry stepped out from the shadows in the hallway. "Hello," he replied, smiling.

Fawn smiled happily back at him. "How've you been?" she said.

"OK," Harry replied.

Aunt Petunia sniffed.

Fawn ignored her.

Harry's second aunt was tall and slim and had black hair that, unlike Harry's, fell in reasonably neat waves to her waist. She normally kept it pulled back, though. The strangest thing about her was how old she looked: no one, seeing her, would easily guess that she was more than one or two years older than seventeen. But Harry knew that she had to be at least as old as his parents would have been had they lived; she often said that they had been friends from when she had been at their school at the same time they were. She was an excellent source of information about his parents—Harry's _only_ source of information about his parents—and she was quick to tell stories, most of which couldn't possibly be true, because where would someone get a flying broomstick or a sphinx?

"So where shall we go today?" Fawn asked as she and Harry walked out of number four Privet Drive, shutting the door firmly behind them.

"Dunno," Harry replied, unable to think of a destination. "I don't really care, as long as it's as far away from here as we can get!"

Fawn's smile was a little sad. She really hated that Harry had to live with the Dursleys, that she couldn't safely take him in herself...

"Aunt Fawn?" Harry's voice startled her out of her gloomy thoughts, and she grinned down at him.

"As far away from here as we can get it is," she said, and they got into the car she had driven there. "Buckle up, kid, we're going to London."

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Hi,

Just wanted to say that I've been really happy with the reviews I've been getting, and I'd like to take the opportunity to thank everyone who has reviewed and say that I don't mind if you haven't-I myself tend to read stories and not review very often, for various reasons-so I'm really just happy if people read, though, as all authors, I do love reviews...

Ta,

DawnFire

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_**Feb. 14, 2010:** This was previously chapter 5. Due to editing, however, it is now chapter 4. ~DF~_


	5. Five

**DISCLAIMER:** Let's see if I can make this short...Ok, for those of you out there who haven't realized yet that Fanfiction means that I am using a world created by another author and am not attempting to plagiarize their work, I DO NOT OWN THE HARRY POTTER SERIES! I AM NOT JOANNE KATHLEEN ROWLING! I'M NOT BRITISH! If I owned the HP series, Sirius probably wouldn't have died...that goes for Fred, Dobby, uh, Remus and Tonks...practically everyone you can think of.

But Molly Weasley's defeat of Bellatrix was pretty cool.

That said, I DO own the plot and some of the characters of this story...basically, anything you don't recognize from the Harry Potter series.

_**That**_ said, enjoy the chapter!

Ta,

DawnFire

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_"I couldn't tell them how old you were if I tried."_

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Five

_Harry's Time (August 1, 1991)_

"Hello, Dudley," Fawn said, appearing in the hut on the rock with a loud crack. Vernon and Petunia were nowhere in sight. Dudley jumped and flinched away from her.

Appearing not to notice this, Fawn glanced around the hut and wrinkled her nose. "What _is_ this place? And why are you here, of all places? I'd've thought Petunia would keep any place she lived in a good deal cleaner than this."

"We're going back home today," Dudley told her. "Daddy went mad and we ended up here, but now Harry's gone so he said there's no point anymore and we can go back now—"

"Wait." Fawn cut him off. "What do you mean, Harry's gone?" Her face had gone white and tense.

"He's gone to get his supplies for _Hogwarts_," Petunia snapped from the doorway, saying 'Hogwarts' as though she were saying 'the madhouse'.

Fawn stared at her, aghast. "_Alone_?" she demanded, horror showing in her eyes.

"With the giant," Dudley put in.

Fawn relaxed. "Hagrid," she said. "He's with Rubeus Hagrid. That's...good. It's good." And she disappeared with a loud _crack_. Dudley fell onto the sagging couch in shock, while Petunia clutched at the doorframe, looking ill.

A few minutes later, Vernon came in. "I thought you were in a hurry to leave," he grunted, and they both started and returned to what they had been doing before Fawn had appeared in the hut on the rock.

** _Scene break **_

Harry was exploring Diagon Alley. Hagrid had run into someone—well, actually, Harry had run into him while he was staring at a cloak of spun gold in a diamond window—and they had started to talk. After a few minutes, Hagrid had looked down at Harry.

"This'll take a while," he'd said. "Yeh go an' explore, we c'n meet outside o' the Quidditch shop in abou' an hour, if that's ok with yeh, Harry."

Harry had grinned, nodded, checked the time, said "See you in an hour, Hagrid!" and rushed off, eager to see more of Diagon Alley.

So far, he'd seen a hat that changed color and shape and a pair of gloves that screamed "Thief!" when they were stolen, as well as a long broomstick that could seat a family of nine, toy broomsticks in a variety of colors that included rainbow and an eye-smarting shade of bright pink, and a sign for glasses that slowly changed prescription to bring your vision back to 20-20 (so that you could adjust to being able to see properly again slowly). Harry, having had glasses for most of his life, was quite used to them, and so he wasn't tempted to pay for them (5 Galleons and up!).

"Hullo," said a voice beside him. Harry jumped, looked up, and met Fawn's eyes with a grin. "You got your Hogwarts letter, I see."

Harry's grin broadened. "Yeah, I did—wait, how d'you know about Hogwarts? And how'd you get here, anyway?"

"I flew," Fawn replied, smirking.

Harry's eyes widened. "Really?"

She shook her head, laughing. "Nah, I Apparated." Harry was about to ask what that was, but she cut him off with a frown. "Weren't you here with Hagrid?" She sounded disapproving, as though she thought the Hogwarts gamekeeper might have abandoned Harry.

"Oh—oh, yeah," said Harry. "I am, he's right over..." he spun in a circle, looking for Hagrid. "...there." Hagrid was still talking, his back to them, head and shoulders taller than everyone else in Diagon Alley.

Fawn made a noise that sounded like "hmph!"

Harry looked at her, puzzled. Fawn was usually nice to most people and spoke at least politely of them—well, except for the Dursleys, but they were a special case.

Yet here was Fawn acting disapproving and practically glaring in Hagrid's direction. Did she know something about him that Harry didn't, maybe?

"Fawn?" he asked. He had stopped using the prefix 'Aunt' several years before. "Is there a reason why you don't like Hagrid?"

Fawn started. "W-what?" she asked. Her eyes remained fixed on Hagrid.

Harry repeated his question.

"Why do you think I don't like him?"

"Well, you're glaring at him, for one thing..."

"No I'm not." Fawn stopped glaring at Hagrid rather hurriedly. "So, kid, what do you think of Diagon Alley?"

Harry knew he was being distracted, but he still could not resist giving her a long description of what he'd seen so far and especially about how he now had a wand—and he pulled it out to show her.

Fawn looked almost puzzled as she examined it, running her fingers over every inch and bringing it close to her eyes to see it better. "Harry," she said finally, "what type of wand is it? And did Mr. Olivander say anything about it when it chose you?"

Fawn always knew how to get information. Harry had figured this out a while ago, so he was not too surprised when she asked the exact questions that would tell her exactly what had happened that was unusual.

"It's holly and phoenix feather," he told her. "Mr. Olivander started to say 'curious' a lot, so I asked him why, and he said that Vol—I mean You-Know-Who—owned a wand that had a feather from the same phoenix that gave the feather for my wand, and that the phoenix only gave two feathers..."

Fawn nodded, listening intently, her face inscrutable. When he had finished, she murmured, "Curious...very curious indeed..." and handed back his wand, looking very deep in thought.

"What's curious?" asked Harry for the second time that day.

Fawn looked down at him. "That particular wand," she murmured, "that particular phoenix...I knew it felt familiar." She didn't seem to really be talking to him, more to herself. "Now I know..."

"You're making a whole lot less sense than Mr. Olivander," Harry told her, and she laughed.

"That's my job, kid," she told him, "to confuse you." And they both laughed.

After they had just about done laughing, Fawn's face went serious. "Harry," she said, "there's one more thing I need to tell you."

"What's that?" said Harry, a little surprised by how much in earnest she was.

"Don't mention me to anyone. Not my name, not what I look like, not that you know me. If you have to talk about me, call me your eccentric aunt or something, say I'm really strange, I don't like anyone to know my name and my house is Un-Plottable and the only way to get in touch with me is by owl, and even then you can't address it. Or write my name in it. And that's because I like my privacy. Understand?"

"Yeah, but why?"

Fawn sighed, rubbing her hand across her face tiredly. "I don't want people knowing I exist. At all. Don't tell them what I look like, how old I am, anything. Ok?"

"I couldn't tell them how old you were if I tried," Harry told her honestly.

She laughed and ruffled his hair. "That's my kid."

Harry grinned at her and she grinned back.

"Fawn, why don't you want people knowing you exist?"

The grin slid off her face.

"Harry," she began slowly, "there are...circumstances. Circumstances that...make it impossible for me to be seen in the wizarding world, except here where I have a strong 'Don't Notice' Charm on me. And even that's not the best of ideas, but I wanted to see you."

"What would happen if someone saw you?" Harry asked, curious.

"A big fuss if I was recognized," Fawn answered, "and that's all I'm sayin'. Go t'Hogwarts and have fun, kid. Make friends, and don't mention me by name or description, even to the best friend you make there. Write to me, just don't put my name on it and don't address it, the owl will find me. I'll see you come June. Bye, Harry." She knelt, and hugged him tightly. He hugged back just as tightly.

A few seconds later, she stepped back and vanished with a final wave goodbye.

Harry stood looking at the place where she'd been for a long moment before he went back to join Hagrid, seeing as the hour was up.

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**_some1:_**

_I'm glad you like the story..._

_What do you mean by 'where do I plan to put Fawn later in the story'? Oh, wait—I think I get it—well, she'll be near Harry. That's all I'm saying. Or rather, that's all I can say..._

_Well, Al Prewett is winning now...actually, it was winning before, but...still._

_And no, I wouldn't call that a bad review—I'm happy that you actually took the time to write something..._

_~DawnFire~_

* * *

_**Feb. 14, 2010:** Due to editing, this was previously chapter 6. ~DF~_


	6. Six

**DISCLAIMER:** While I **will** claim credit for my ideas, plot, and creations (OCs, etc.), I will **not** claim credit for the Harry Potter series. This also means that I am not claiming the quote from the Sorting Hat that appears in...GoF, I think. It's two lines and it's italicized. Thank you for your kind attention and for reading my story(ies), and please recognize that I do not own any works published by J. K. Rowling about the wonderful world of Harry Potter. Thank you, enjoy, and have a nice day-er, night. ~DawnFire~

* * *

**Note—**I know that the spell is _homenum revelio_. My reasoning is that it used to be _homeno revelius_, and was more powerful, allowing you to obtain the identity of whoever was there, not just to reveal human presence. Over the centuries, it got mangled slightly with _Homeno Revelium _to form a minimally less powerful spell (_homenum revelio_). _Homeno Revelium _would have been a spell to reveal a certain person (if you were trying to track them—possibly an early version of the Trace). Just so you know (and before someone asks).

* * *

_"It is not a crime to be in love."_

* * *

**Six**

_Harry's Time (August 1991)_

"What can I do for you, Ms. Deer?"

"Professor Dumbledore. I'm looking for a job."

Dumbledore peered over the rims of his half-moon spectacles. "If you wish to take the Defense Against the Dark Arts post, I'm afraid I must disappoint you. That position has already been filled."

"I know. Professor, I don't care what job it is, I just need it. Please."

Dumbledore thought for a moment. "Well, I suppose we could use a substitute teacher in the event that one of our professors finds themselves unable to teach...I have also been thinking of creating a new post, for a teacher who would teach either preliminary or more advanced classes for those interested...and perhaps other classes that could be determined later in the year...would you be interested?"

She nodded.

"Your resume qualifies you for this sort of task...you're hired, if you want the job."

"I do want it, sir."

"Then welcome to the ranks of the teachers, Ms. Deer—or should I say Professor Deer."

The new professor smiled happily. "Thank you, Headmaster," she said.

* _Unknown Time_

"So you live in an orphanage?" The girl whistled. "And I thought I was badly off."

The boy had no reply. He glared.

The girl noticed. She noticed everything. "Don't look at me like that, I ain't done nothing to ya."

"Oh really?" he demanded. "Must I remind you of—"

"No," she said quickly, and he laughed.

"C'mon in, I'll show you around."

* _Marauder Time (Approx. 1975)_

"Go out with me, Evans?"

"No way, Potter!"

"James Potter."

His head whipped around. "Yes, Professor?"

"Please refrain from asking Lily Evans out in my class." But the witch was grinning. Most of the class was.

James grinned at the teacher. "Technically, Professor, class hasn't started yet, so I wasn't disrupting the lesson."

"Strangely enough," drawled the Professor.

This got a laugh. Hardly a day went by when one or another of the Marauders didn't play a prank and disrupt a class.

She proceeded to turn her back on James, flicking her wand at the blackboard. Neat writing began to appear.

Sirius Black raised his hand. "Um, Professor?"

Professor Silver turned to look at him, one eyebrow cocked, her wand casually pointing at her student. "Yes?"

Sirius gulped a little, leaning away from the wand. "Um, were you going to punish James? I mean Mr. Potter here?"

James glared at him, willing his friend to stop talking.

Professor Silver folded her arms. Sirius gave an audible sigh of relief as the threat of the teacher's wand faded.

Said teacher grinned.

"While I'm sure you'd like our Mr. Potter punished, seeing as you're obviously in Slytherin, Sirius Black, and thus hate all Gryffindors..."

Remus Lupin sighed. Would Sirius ever learn to keep his mouth shut?

He knew that the answer was almost definitely no.

"I'm afraid he won't, Remus Lupin."

Remus jumped. "Professor?"

"I'm afraid our young Black here will never learn to keep his mouth shut. And," she turned back to Sirius, "I will not punish James Potter, no. It is not a crime to be in love. On the other hand..." she smirked. "I believe someday I will take 150 points from Gryffindor house just to see your reaction, which I'm sure will be quite interesting." Sirius went white, then managed to laugh shakily along with the Professor and the rest of the class.

Professor Silver shook her head and turned back to the blackboard.

There was silence.

Professor Silver frowned, though none of them saw it. "You may talk amongst yourselves," she said.

Everyone exhaled, and started to talk.

Lily leaned over to the Marauders. "I hope that teaches you a lesson, Black! Trying to get Potter punished..."

Sirius stared at her for a moment. "Wait, do you actually care if Silver punishes James or not?"

"I care about whether or not Gryffindor loses points to your jokes!" snarled the redhead.

Sirius leaned away from her. "Call her off, James," he said urgently.

"Call her...what?" was James' response.

Sirius stared at him. "Mate, she yells at you all the time. Haven't you figured out how to make her stop yet?"

"Er..."

Remus decided to step in. "It's all right, Lily, I'll try and make sure he never loses Gryffindor that many points."

Her piercing emerald gaze that James had bored the other Marauders to tears (literally) describing turned on Remus, who found he was trying not to lean away like Sirius had.

"And, er, I'll try to keep them from annoying you..." he added quickly.

Lily smiled. "Good luck," she said. "You'll go down in history for bravest effort made to control Potter and Black. Maybe they'll give you the Order of Merlin."

It was very lucky that that was the moment Professor Silver chose to begin the lesson. If she hadn't, there was no doubt that Lily would not have liked what was about to come out of Sirius' mouth next, and that would have been...inevitable, but mostly disastrous.

* _Founder Time_

_A thousand years or more ago_

_When I was newly sewn_...

"Our school is beautiful," said Helga delightedly, twirling around the newly named Great Hall. "Isn't it, Ro?"

"Of course it is," Lady Rowena laughed. "How could it be anything else?"

"I'm sure I don't know," put in Salazar. "Not after all the time you spent making adjustments to tiny things none of us can see..."

Both women turned and gave him such a superior look that he raised both hands in defense. "I'm sure it's made a great difference...hasn't it, Godric?"

Silence.

"Godric? Come on, Gryffindor...not funny...at all..."

Godric Gryffindor was nowhere to be found.

"_Homeno revelius_," Rowena said firmly. Two seconds later, she said, "Helena, come out from behind there and tell us if you've seen Godric."

"I haven't," Helena said. "Hello, everyone."

Helga and Salazar nodded their greetings.

"Have at you!" cried a voice from outside the doors.

"You'll never beat me!" cried another.

The four raced to open the doors.

Two fencing figures almost danced into the Great Hall as Rowena, Helga, Helena, and Salazar ducked out of the way.

"Godric, did you know we've been looking for you?" demanded Salazar.

Godric disarmed his son and turned to look at his friend, pushing his hair out of his eyes. "No, I didn't," he replied.

Ric wiped his own sweaty hair off his face. "I was winning," he said in slight complaint.

"No you weren't," countered Godric. "Not even close."

Salazar snorted. "You just don't want to admit that he might be close to beating you," he said.

"Thank you!" said Ric.

Godric glared at his friend, but just shook his head and turned to Rowena. "How close are we to completion, Lady Ro?" he asked.

"Nearly finished," she replied. "We have only to complete the protective spells—or rather, _I_ have only to complete the protective spells..."

They all laughed.

It was true: Rowena was going to set all of the spells that were left, mostly because these were the most important ones, and they couldn't risk failure by one of the other founders of Hogwarts. Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry had to be perfect.

* * *

_**Feb. 14, 2010:** Previously chapter 7. ~DF~_


	7. Seven

A/N: The time has come, the Walrus said, to post another chapter!

Enjoy,

~DawnFire~

* * *

**DISCLAIMER:** If I was using Polyjuice Potion I could be J. K. Rowling...I think...maybe. No. Forget it, I don't even particularly want to be her, so I'd rather you don't say that I am...though why you would, I have no idea...weird. So anyways, nothing but the ideas and one-no, two-characters in this chapter, as well as most of the plot, belongs to me...yada yada capayada...don't ask. Enjoy the chapter!

* * *

_"If you don't try to find out on your own I'll consider telling you."_

* * *

xX**_Seven_**Xx

_Harry's Time (late 1991)_

She was patrolling the hallways near the kitchens when she heard them.

"And then Snape—"

"Took ten points from Gryffindor—"

"And gave us both detention!"

"I know, I was there."

"Oh, right."

"But how much—"

"Of a git—"

"Is he?"

"Rather a large one, I should think," she said, coming up to join them.

"Did he give you detention too?"

"Nah, didn't get the chance." She snickered.

"You're lucky, then."

"Really lucky."

"Oh, I don't know..." she replied. "Detention with Kettleburn's not that great..."

"Yeah? What'd he make you do?"

She laughed. "Where to start! Cleaning cages, organizing animal food that _stank_, chopping lettuce for third-years to feed to Flobberworms...and all without magic, too."

"Wow."

"What'd you _do_?"

"Erm...talked during class, took a ride on a Hippogriff while he droned on about something, er, asked repeatedly where I could get a Niffler...cute little creatures, don't you think?"

"Yeah, adorable."

"Real useful, too."

"So what are you doing out of bed, anyway?"

"Oh, we were hungry, so we came down to the kitchens to get some food."

"I've been thinking I might get some myself."

"Shall we go together?"

"By all means!"

They approached the painting, tickled the pear, and stepped into the light happily.

"Finally, _food_..."

"What can Penny get you, sirs, professor?"

"_Professor?_" chorused Fred and George Weasley and Lee Jordan, horrified.

Fawn ignored them. "Something warm would be great...could you get me some hot chocolate, please?"

Penny nodded. "Yes, professor, of course. Would sirs like anything?"

"I think they're in shock," Fawn said, amused. "Tell you what, we'll—I'll—just call when they snap out of it."

Penny nodded, bowed, and darted away.

"Hello...?" Fawn waved a hand in front of the three third-years' faces. "Hellooo..."

They stayed frozen.

"How's this," she said at last. "If you don't snap out of it, I'll reconsider not giving you detention."

"You're not giving us detention?" said Lee Jordan incredulously. Fawn saw with relief that all three had finally unfrozen.

"Snape already did that," she replied. "Besides, if I gave you detention I'd have to find something for you to do during it. Besides that, it would take up time that I'd rather spend doing something else."

"Sensible," said Fred, still a little pale.

"Yeah," George agreed, and Lee nodded.

"They won't say it, but you're now their—"

"—new favorite teacher," Fawn finished, and smirked.

Feeling suddenly like a cross between Snape and a Malfoy, she wiped the smirk from her face and put away her wand, which she had absentmindedly taken out and begun to twirl.

Lee stared at her. "Did you know what I was going to say, or was that just a lucky guess?"

Fawn grinned. "That's for me to know—"

"And us to find out?"

"No, for you to _forget_ about!"

"That's no fun!"

"Yeah, there's no fun in forgetting about stuff that could be interesting!"

"Well that's just too bad, then. Look, I'd be risking a lot if I told you, so please don't ask me!"

"We could try to find out without asking you."

"Yeah, we could ask Percy!"

Fawn stared at them in amazed frustration. "It's like you're _trying_ to—" She cut herself off mid-sentence.

"Trying to what?" chorused the twins eagerly.

Fawn sighed. "If you don't try to find out on your own I'll consider telling you."

They considered it for a minute, then all three nodded.

"Deal."

* * *

_**Feb. 14, 2010:** Previously chapter 8._


	8. Eight

**DISCLAIMER:** Yeah, so I was on the bus the other day, and the person next to me turned to me and said, 'Hey, are you J. K. Rowling?' and I nearly said yes, only then I remembered that my name is actually DawnFire (sort of) and I'm not the author of the _Harry Potter_ series, only of 30+ fanfictions about the same series. So sad.

* * *

_'I think your father would laugh himself sick if he could see his son calling me his 'Eccentric Aunt'.'_

* * *

**_xX___****Eight**Xx

_Marauder Time (1972)_

"Professor, can I ask you something?"

She looked up and smiled. "Of course you can, Remus."

"I was just...I wanted to ask your advice about something."

"I'd be happy to help, if I can. What is it?"

"I was just...you know, my, my condition...do you think I should tell them? My friends?"

The teacher sighed and sat straighter. "Remus, I'm sorry, but that's not a decision I can make for you."

Remus Lupin looked down. "I understand, Professor."

Professor Silver sighed, and rubbed a hand over her eyes. "I was once in a position slightly like this, you know," she said quietly. "Actually, I've been in quite a few."

"But you're not a—a—"

"No, I'm not. But I am only half wizard...or witch, or whatever."

Remus looked up at her, confused. "What do you mean?"

She sighed. "I'm not completely...well, let's put it this way—and I don't want you repeating this unless you're absolutely certain you can trust whoever you're telling not to spread it around—I'm not half witch and half Muggle. My other half is...something else. So I'm not even half-blood, in a way, a more accurate term would be half-breed, although I don't think breeding ever really came into it. Then again, there's no real way I could know, so..." She trailed off.

"To go back to what I was saying before...I don't usually go around telling people about this. When I found out, I told one person, my best friend. No, wait, that's not right—I told two people. My best friend and my other close friend..." She sighed again. "One stayed my friend and the other never forgave me for something...funny how it wasn't even being a half-breed, it was for something I couldn't help letting happen. I suppose staying friends with...oh well. That's a different story. The point I think I'm trying to make, in a very roundabout way, is that if they're truly your friends, they'll accept you for who you are. I shouldn't be surprised if they found out on their own and did something to help you..."

Remus' eyes widened. "Do you know something I don't?"

His teacher laughed. "I know a lot of things that you don't," she replied. "Don't worry, what they do won't hurt you. I promise. It may even help."

Remus gave her a long look. "I trust you, Professor Silver."

"I know. Lighten up a bit, Remus, have some fun. They're your friends. They're not going to leave you for something that you can't help being. They know you're not a monster, except for twelve nights a year. They'll still treat you the same."

Remus smiled. "Thanks, professor." He turned to leave. At the door, he paused and turned back. "Professor Silver?"

"Yes?"

"Now I'm sure you know something I don't."

Remus left the room to the sound of Professor Silver's laughter.

***_ Harry's Time (1991- Sept/Oct)_

_Hi,_

_As you asked, I'm not using your name, so I hope this reaches you._

_As you also asked, I'm writing to you. I'm in Gryffindor (I'll assume I don't have to explain stuff about Hogwarts to you, since you know about Hogwarts) and I have a best friend, Ron Weasley. Do you know the Weasleys? There's three more of them at Hogwarts: Percy, who's a prefect, and...rather boring, and Fred and George, who are twins. They're really funny and the biggest mischief-makers in the school._

_I have some other news, too—I'm on the Quidditch team! Apparently I'm the youngest Seeker—the youngest house player, actually—in over a century! I got on the team because I caught Neville's Remembrall after Malfoy dropped it. (Neville Longbottom's in Gryffindor too, and Malfoy—Draco Malfoy—is in Slytherin. We're enemies.)_

_Er, not really sure what else to write, so I'll end this letter here._

_Harry_

_PS: Dunno if you think the way I addressed this is funny or not; I did. I got the name from something you said in Diagon Alley. Harry_

Fawn looked again at the address on the envelope.

It read:

_Eccentric Aunt_

She started to laugh.

After a while, she wrote:

_Dear Harry,_

_You have an interesting sense of humor, kid. A lot like your father's. I think he'd laugh himself sick if he could see his son calling me his 'Eccentric Aunt'. Lily—your mum, that is—would probably hit him over the head at this part. She liked him to be respectful, Lily did. Anyway..._

_That's great that you're in Gryffindor! Your parents and I were in there too._

_I know the Weasleys, although not very well—but well enough to know that they're a nice group of people. Ron is probably an excellent choice of friend._

_Malfoy, I can say, is probably...well, do you say a good choice of enemy or a bad one? Malfoys in general aren't very nice. Draco Malfoy must follow that rule. I know for a fact that Lucius Malfoy (is he Draco Malfoy's father, by the way?) was one of Voldemort's—or You-Know-Who's, if you prefer—followers. I'd heard he'd gotten married, but I didn't particularly care whether or not he had any children, so I never bothered to find out if he did._

_Write to me again as soon as you have anything interesting to tell me,_

_Your_

_Eccentric Aunt_

_PS: I guess that name is going to stick. E. A._

She read her letter through, then put it aside. She would post it as soon as she finished with the mountain of essays she had somehow collected to mark.

* * *

A/N: Yes, _Professor_ Silver. Interesting, no? Guess she's older than you might have thought...unless she's time-traveling... O.O Of course, it could be someone else with the same surname... Hehe. Here goes me, putting thoeries in your heads...

Of course, the friend who didn't forgive her wasn't not forgiving her at the same time that she told that friend about being a 'half-breed'. And breeding definitely wasn't part of it... (as in, her parents didn't have a kid solely for the purpose of seeing what powers the kid would have. They were a normal couple. They loved each other. Don't ask me whether they're alive or not, it's a pretty tricky question to answer.).

The next chapter features the Weasley twins and a dragon, as well as some Marauder-related talk...

~DawnFire~

* * *

**Feb. 14, 2010:** Previously chapters 9 and 10, which have now been combined. ~DF~


	9. Nine

**DISCLAIMER: **Hey, y'all...How was your day? Mine was ... wait, that's not what I'm supposed to be talking about...What am I supposed to be talking about? You know what, I think I'll bring in some news reporter to help me... News Reporter: And today we will be covering the Swine Flu that has recently- Me: Y'know what, I don't think that's what I'm supposed to be talking about either...*sighs* Anyone? Hermione: Oh, fine. Honestly...Very well. DawnFire does not own anything recognizable as coming from the Harry Potter series which was written by Joanne Kathleen Rowling. She only owns plot, OCs, etc. *looks puzzled* But why is there a series of books about Harry? Did Harry give her permission to write them-? Me: I don't know, thanks for doing my disclaimer, Hermione, you can go now... *Hermione huffs and leaves, muttering about legalities*. Me: Huh. Well, you heard her...Now. Enjoy the chapter!

* * *

_"If you ever feel the need to levitate a meal, I'd like to be on hand to see it."_

* * *

x_X**Nine**X_x

_Harry's Time (March/April 1992)_

"So I hear you've got a dragon."

"How'd you—"

"I have my ways...What type is it?"

"A Norwegian Ridgeback. I named 'im Norbert."

She smiled up at the giant gamekeeper. "Can I see him?"

"Sure." Hagrid opened the door to his hut just enough for both of them to enter.

"He's so...words fail, Rubeus, words fail."

Hagrid gave her a strange look. "No one's called me Rubeus in years, Professor Deer."

"Sylvia. The name is Sylvia. I can call you Hagrid if you'd rather."

Hagrid shrugged.

"Yeh remind me of someone," he said reaching down to pet Norbert. "She got along wi' fascinating creatures...like yeh seem to."

She laughed, a little nervously. "I'm sure it's a coincidence, Hagrid." She patted Norbert, dodged a stream of fire, and stood up. "I'd better go, essays to grade..."

She wasn't sure Hagrid even heard her as she left, so focused was he on Norbert and old memories.

Once she was back inside the castle, she started to laugh, almost hysterically.

"Professor?" asked someone. "Are you all right?"

She glanced down at one of the Weasley twins, though she wasn't sure which one.

"I'm fine," she returned, managing to stop laughing. "Just a nervous breakdown is all. Dragons can do that to you..."

"Dragons?" That was the other twin, who had come up on her other side.

"Never mind. So what are you two up to?"

"Um..."

"Er..."

She laughed. "Pranking someone? As long as it's not me, I'm fine with it."

They gaped at her.

"Oh come on, you should have expected that. I let you off detention, didn't I? And anyway, it's the same policy I used with the Marauders. You know who they are, right? I mean, you found their map, didn't you?"

They just stared. "Wha—how—how'd you know about that?"

She shrugged. "I had a very small part in making it. I tend to keep tabs on stuff I've made."

Not that that was the only reason she knew, but she wasn't about to tell them that...

"You knew the Marauders?" Both twins had awed looks on their faces.

"Fairly well, yes. I met them here, actually. Well, not this particular hallway, but you know what I mean."

"What were they like? I mean, what _are_ they like? I mean, if you met them at school, they can't be much older than you, right?"

She laughed. "I'll take that as a compliment. And I can tell you right now..." her smile turned to a frown. "At least one of them is dead. Another may or may not be. The other two are very much alive, although one of them might disagree with you slightly on that, he'd probably say something about it not being much of a life." She sighed. This was one of her touchiest subjects, not that the twins knew it.

Both twins' eyes had widened. "Which ones? I mean...which one is in which condition?"

She had to smile at the hasty and jumbled question, although the smile quickly faded. "Prongs is dead. Wormtail may or may not be. Padfoot would say that his life currently isn't much of one. Moony is probably fairly sad, but definitely alive, as far as I know."

"Pity," said one of them. "I thought Prongs was brilliant."

She started to laugh again. "So did he, as well as a good deal of the rest of the school. Except for the Slytherins."

"Oh! Which house were they in? Or which houses?"

"Gryffindor," she grinned.

"What are or were they like?"

She grinned slightly. "Hm, let's see. Padfoot was playful, and...a bit of a ladies' man, I guess you could call it, charming and everything. Moony was studious, but still good fun. Prongs was...rather like Padfoot, only he was chasing this one girl who I tend to call his 'Flower'. She hated him, of course, so it was rather a shock when they finally started to get along in seventh year...they got married, actually, and so now we also have Prongs Jr. And Wormtail just...followed them around, really, I'm not even sure why he was there. He must have had a few good ideas from time to time, though. Funny how he turned into a rat...and Padfoot turned into a dog..."

"How so, Professor?"

"Dogs are loyal. Rats are..." She trailed off, shaking her head. "Merlin! How could they have trusted him?" She actually slammed her fist against the wall before she caught herself. She looked around to find that the twins were staring at her.

"Sorry," she mumbled. "It's just...everyone thinks that Padfoot betrayed Prongs, Prongs' Flower, and Prongs Jr., and killed Wormtail, but I keep thinking it's the other way around. But I can't go to Azkaban to ask Padfoot about it!"

"Why not?"

"Because I—oh no, I'm not telling you that! No way!"

They both sighed. "Worth a shot..."

"Someday you two will get me arrested," she muttered in annoyance. "Questions and prying and trying to get me to tell you my secrets...!"

"You could get arrestemmph?"

He was cut off by her hand over his mouth.

"I am not a criminal," she said softly. "Accept that, will you? I was an Auror once, I've never been on the Dark side. I just don't feel like losing my sanity in Azkaban for the Ministry's idiocy."

She stepped back.

The twins looked from her, to each other, and then back to her. "We won't tell anyone," they said together.

Her face brightened. "Thanks. You don't know what this means to me."

They shrugged. "Say," said one of them, "d'you think we'll ever get to meet one of the Marauders?"

Their teacher looked blankly at the wall for about a minute, then grinned. "Yes." She looked blank again for another minute, then started to laugh. They looked at her.

"What's so funny?"

She smirked. "If you ever feel the need to levitate a meal, I'd like to be on hand to see it."

They exchanged puzzled glances, then shrugged. "Er...ok..."

There was something strange about Professor Deer, but they didn't mind. She had to be the most interesting teacher in Hogwarts, at least in their opinion.

Now to see if they could figure out any way to get Padfoot out of Azkaban without knowing his real name...

They turned to ask Professor Deer what Padfoot's real name was, but she had gone.

* * *

A/N:

Coming up next chapter: the exploits of a young Gryffindor!

Thank you so much to everyone who's been reviewing! And to those who reviewed _Cause and Effect, or Loss: a Oneshot_ - I can't answer the anonymous reviewer, but thank you very much for the review, even though you're probably not reading this...But still, thanks.

~DawnFire~

* * *

**March 8, 2010:** Previously chapter 11. ~DF~


	10. Ten

**DISCLAIMER:** If you don't know by now that I don't own the original Harry Potter series, then I have just one question for you: _where in the name of Merlin have you been for the past _*goes back and counts* _ten (10) disclaimers?_

* * *

_"You'll be a great fighter, little Gwen!"_

* * *

**_Ten_**

_Founder Time_

"Guinevere Gryffindor!" yelled a furious Salazar Slytherin. "You come back here!"

The toddler just laughed and kept on running.

"Give me back my wand, you little pest!"

"Nuh-uh, Unka Sazar!" She giggled, and ran through the door and out of sight.

Salazar stopped running and sighed, rubbing his temples. Godric's daughter loved to annoy him, and she was very good at it.

Now how could he get his wand back?

"Daddy, Daddy, look what I got!" Guinevere waved Salazar's wand in Godric's face. "'S'Unka Sazar's!"

Godric burst out laughing. "That's my girl. Annoying Salazar again...you'll be a great fighter, little Gwen!"

The toddler grinned, and ran off, but not before waving Salazar's wand and turning Godric red and blue all over.

It was a few minutes before Godric realized this, but when he did, there were two wizards determined to get Salazar's wand away from Gwen Gryffindor.

"Rowena, I need a favor."

"What sort of favor?"

"I need you to...um." Salazar trailed off in embarrassment. "Er, it's Gwen...she, uh..." He couldn't say it.

"Turned you pink like last week, Transfigured your work into biscuits like yesterday...?"

"Stolen my wand," Salazar mumbled.

There was a moment's silence, and then Rowena Ravenclaw burst out laughing.

"It's not funny," Salazar grumbled. "Could you get it back for me?"

"What's the magic word?" Rowena grinned.

Salazar ground his teeth. "_Please_." he said in annoyance.

"But of course, dear friend. Why didn't you say that in the first place?"

Salazar Slytherin looked up at the ceiling and decided that he was never going to understand women.

"Gwen, give me that wand!"

"Can't, Daddy!"

"Why not?" Godric Gryffindor was very, very close to losing his temper with his unruly daughter.

"Auntie Ro took it!"

Godric slapped a palm to his forehead.

Gwen giggled. "We go see Auntie Ro now?"

Godric nodded. "Yes, Gwen, we go see Auntie Ro now."

Father and daughter set off to find Rowena and make sure that Salazar's wand was returned to him—and, in Godric's case, to ask her to remove the colors, since his own wand had mysteriously gone missing.

Of course, Gwen had a fairly good idea of where it was—but she wasn't telling.

* * *

A/N: I really love writing this time...unfortunately, it won't always be sunshine and daisies, but one can dream, no?

For those of you who read/reviewed/added to favorites April's Fool, thank you so much!

Next up, the identity of the unidentified time!

Guess I'll let you go on your merry way now...I hope you enjoyed the chapter.

Yours,

~DawnFire~

* * *

**March 8, 2010: **Formerly chapter 12. ~DF~


	11. Eleven

**A/N #1:** Finally, the long-anticipated Chapter Eleven! (Ok, so it was probably just me who anticipated it. Whatever. It's still anticipated, right?) In which the identity of the Unidentified Time will be revealed. Finally.

Enjoy the chapter,

~DawnFire~

* * *

**DISCLAIMER:** Sigh...another of these? Very well: I, DawnFire, do solemnly swear, that I am not, nor ever will be, Joanne Kathleen Rowling. Signed (well, as much as can be done on the computer),

~DawnFire~

* * *

_"We've got to find out who he is, Gryffindor. Got to find out who he is, and stop him before he gets started."_

* * *

**Eleven**

_The soon-to-be-identified time._

"Aah!" She scrambled wildly, lost her balance, and fell off the pouf.

He was at her side in a moment, helping her up. "What is it?"

She looked up wildly, her eyes wide and fearful. "The snake-man again. One hour, he says, one hour—let his friends die for him—come and face—one hour's rest, then they attack with no mercy—" The words tumbled out, jumbled together, almost unintelligible with the speed and her shaking.

"Do you know who he is?"

She shook her head. "Seems familiar, too familiar, but worse, I don't know, I don't know, _I don't know_..." Her face went blank again, and she stopped shaking, her eyes staring through her friend.

The entire Divination class, quite used to this by now, ignored them, continuing to interpret their dreams in a general state of boredom.

But when she screamed, more than one head turned.

"No!" she cried, jerking back to the present. "No, basilisk, no, Tom, _help_! What do you think you're playing at?"

Tom just stared, horrified, his face paler than usual. "What is it? What basilisk? What are you talking about?"

"Diary, possessed—basilisk—no, no, no..."

"Ssh...it's alright..." He pulled her to her feet, supporting the shaking girl as he quickly Charmed their bags to follow. The teacher didn't even notice, being used to this, as it happened nearly every class. "Come on, we're leaving." He supported her all the way out of the door and through the corridors, leaving her to lean against the wall for a moment as he walked three times in front of the blank wall opposite the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy on the seventh floor. On his third pass, a door appeared in the wall, and he went back to help her through it, closing it behind them and lowering her onto a couch before grabbing a footstool and sitting on it in front of her, looking much less dignified than usual.

"What did you see?"

She was still pale and shaking, but she hugged a pillow to her and managed to speak, slipping back into street slang. "Firs' was ol' snake-face. He was tellin' 'em they had one hour, one hour t' treat their inj'ries, dispose a their dead with dignity—an' he's got one hour to give 'imself up, one hour afore snake-face goes an' kills everyone what tried ta 'ide 'im. One hour." She shuddered. "An' then—basilisk. Different time—but the diary—an' _you_—_you_ come out o' it, Tom. Was _you_. You called th' basilisk, memory o' you. But it didn't look much like a mem'ry to me, Tom, looked more like a part of ya..."

The pale boy opposite her buried his face in his hands, fingers clenching in his hair. "D'you reckon this has anything to do with snake-face?"

"Dunno. It might."

He looked up, eyes serious. "We've got to find out who he is, Gryffindor. Got to find out who he is, and stop him before he gets started."

She shook her head slowly. "Slytherin, I don't think you'll have much luck with that." She put the pillow aside and leaned forward. "Tom, he might not even be born yet. And I don't think he was born looking like snake-face—he could be anyone. Lestrange, even—"

"No." Tom straightened. "Lestrange isn't nearly powerful enough."

She shrugged. "Why worry about it, Slytherin? It might not even happen in our lifetime. Someone might make a choice that will change it all. It might never happen. We don't even know how to prevent it!"

He leaned forward to grip her shoulder. "Gryffindor, the memory or whatever it was in the diary—you said it was _me_. _Me_, Gryffindor. Face it, _we are connected to this_, whether we want to be or not."

"Tom, it was you at sixteen."

He let go of her and sat back, puzzled. "How can you possibly know that?"

She shrugged. "You said it—well, the you that was out o' th' di'ry did, anyhow. Said it was you at sixteen. Was speakin' Parseltongue an' all."

He stared at her, some sort of anguish on his face. "Gryffindor, what are we going to do? I've only got two years before I make the diary thing. What can I do? How can I stop it?"

She shook her head slowly, unable to answer. "I don't know, Tom. I really don't know."

* * *

**A/N #2:** What I'm really anticipating are your reactions to this...

Well, now you know what the 'unidentified' time is. It's Tom Riddle's years. The 1940s, I think...somewhere around then. I should probably figure that out exactly.

So. You reckon they'll figure out Tom's connection to 'snake-face'? Do you think Tom will still make the diary? And who's that girl?

Coming up next chapter: Letters. Many, many letters. Long chapter. I think. Rather interesting letters, at that...But yeah. Letters. Many. Many. Letters. :D

Yours,

~DawnFire~

**PS:** Thank you to reviewers! I didn't answer some of the most recent ones...I just didn't feel like replying to reviews, I was pretty tired...sorry about that...~DF~

* * *

**March 8, 2010:** Formerly chapter thirteen. ~DF~


	12. Twelve

**DISCLAIMER:** Hm...how many times do I have to write this? Quite a few, I suppose...Very well. Let's see. Uh...I saw this somewhere and kinda liked it... Roses are red, Violets are blue, Harry Potter's not mine, Please do not sue? I think I altered that a bit...ah well. I don't own the Harry Potter series, only whatever bits of my own imagination that I have put into fanfiction stories of it. But then again, that's called FANfiction for a reason...it implies that the author is not the one writing them, right? As in, the author of the series?

Right. Enjoy the chapter, please review, etc,

~DawnFire~

* * *

_'Look, if it wasn't Snape who was jinxing my broom, then who at Hogwarts wants me dead?'_

* * *

_x**XTwelveX**x_

_Harry's Time (1992)_

_Dear...uh. Hi,_

_Respectful? Why would my dad laughing because I call you my 'Eccentric Aunt' make my mum think that he should be more respectful?_

_I tend to say 'Voldemort'. And I really have no idea who Malfoy's dad is—I can ask Ron, he might know—his dad works at the Ministry, and Malfoy's always boasting about how his dad works there too, so maybe Mr. Weasley knows who Malfoy Sr. is..._

_I'm glad you approve of my choices of friends and enemies._

_I have a new friend as well—Hermione Granger. Ron and I saved her from a troll that got in over Halloween. So now we're friends. She's really smart, and not as bossy as she used to be._

_Anyway, how are you? Are you doing anything interesting? I know you almost never tell me anything about what you're doing, but I might as well ask..._

_Harry_

**_-HP-Letters-Twelve-Letters-FS-_**

_Dear Harry,_

_Kid, you sound a bit like a mixture of your godfather and one of your dad's other best friends. Yes, you have a godfather. No, you can't go live with him. No, he is not dead. I'm not going to say any more on that matter, because I have no proof of what I think, other than my own opinions._

_A troll, eh? I'm proud of you (and Ron) for saving Hermione from it, but do be careful, won't you? Lily and James wanted me to keep you safe, but you have to help with that._

_Good luck with your first Quidditch match—there's one around now, right? I seem to remember the Quidditch season starting around November..._

_You'll do fine. If you were good enough to get on the team in the first place, then you'll be fine. Besides, your father was a really good Chaser—did anyone ever tell you? I think I might have, but I don't think you really knew what I was talking about, seeing as you were fairly young and didn't exactly believe in magic...Anyway, he was really, really good, so he probably passed that on to you. You'll do great, kid, and I'll be proud of you whether or not you win, though I think you will._

_Er. About the respect thing...Harry, that's something I really don't want to answer, and especially not in a letter. I'm sorry._

_I'm keeping busy. With some time to enjoy myself. Yes, I know that's mysterious...what can I say, it's a habit. And I like being mysterious._

_Your_

_Eccentric Aunt_

**___-HP-Letters-Twelve-Letters-FS-_**

_Dear Eccentric Aunt,_

_Alright, so I can't go live with my godfather...from what you said, he and my dad were friends?_

_So what about this other best friend of my dad's? Can I go live with him? Or her? And if not, why not?_

_I promise to try and stay safe, but I'm starting to think that trouble has a way of finding me...And that leads to the Quidditch match._

_Thanks for wishing me luck—I needed it. Someone—we (Ron, Hermione, and I) suspect Snape—you know who he is, right?—anyway, he was jinxing my broom. I barely managed to stay on, but I caught the Snitch in my mouth—nearly swallowed it, actually—so we still won the game. Hermione set Snape's robes on fire and broke his concentration, that's how I was able to get back on my broom...I'm really glad I'm friends with Hermione, I'd be dead or injured and falling way behind in my homework (because of Quidditch practice) without her. Ron's a great friend too._

_I really don't see why you don't like Hagrid, he's really very nice._

_All right (about the respect thing, as you called it), but I'm asking you about it the next time you come to visit._

_What I don't understand is why you're in the habit of being mysterious. Maybe I'll try it sometime, see why you like it..._

_Your, er, nephew?_

_Harry_

_PS: Are you actually related to me? I've always wondered. And how am I safer with the Dursleys than with you? –Harry_

_PPS: Professor McGonagall said that my dad was 'an excellent Quidditch player', but I didn't know what position he played. Thanks for telling me. –Harry_

**___-HP-Letters-Twelve-Letters-FS-_**

_Dear Harry,_

_Yes, your dad and your godfather were friends. No, you cannot go live with him (your dad's other best friend), and that's because the Ministry wouldn't allow it and you're safer with the Dursleys anyway. I'm sorry. I know you hate them._

_I know that Snape didn't particularly like your father, not that your dad particularly liked him either, but I don't think he'd go so far as to try and jinx you off your broom. You may have just jumped to conclusions this time._

_Nice catch (the Snitch) by the way. Spectacular, Harry, catching it in your mouth..._

_I'm glad you have great friends, kid, you need them._

_I repeat, Harry, I do not dislike Hagrid! Stop bugging me about it!_

_All right, you can ask, and I'll do my best to answer, but I can't promise I'll give a very clear answer. Sorry._

_You do that, kid. You do that. I'm sure your attempts at being mysterious will be amusing, at least to me._

_You are related to me, I think, through your father and very distantly. I can't tell you the exact connection, mostly because I don't know, I'm just assuming. You're safer with the Dursleys than with me or anyone else because of protections that Dumbledore set up when he left you with the Dursleys that can't work if you're living anywhere else._

_You're welcome, kid. James would be proud of your accomplishments in Quidditch, by the way—he'd be really proud that his son is the youngest Quidditch player in over a century. Lily would be proud of you whatever you do, actually—well, unless you were to join Voldemort, in which case she'd probably be appalled...somehow I don't think you'd do that, though, so let's just go with that your mum would be proud of you whatever you do, 'kay?_

_Your_

_Eccentric Aunt_

**___-HP-Letters-Twelve-Letters-FS-_**

_Dear Eccentric Aunt,_

_Ron and Hermione said to tell you hello for them. They asked me who I was writing to, so I told them I was writing to my aunt, who's rather eccentric and likes privacy. Hermione looked rather interested, and said that she was going to see if she could find a book that would say if I had any living blood-relations besides the Dursleys...sorry about that, but I can't really stop her...besides, you said—wrote—that the connection was very distant, so she probably won't find your name...it'd be amazing if she found something, though, wouldn't it? I'd love to know if I have any more living relatives..._

_Why wouldn't the Ministry allow me to go live with one of my dad's old friends? And why can't the enchantments that Dumbledore set up work if I'm living somewhere else? And I'm living somewhere else right now (Hogwarts) so are they still working?_

_Look, if it wasn't Snape who was jinxing my broom, then who at Hogwarts wants me dead?_

_You really did seem to dislike Hagrid, so if you don't then you're doing a really good job of pretending..._

_Thanks for what you said about my parents..._

_Ron, Hermione, and I are trying to find someone. I know this is the perfect time for me to be mysterious, but I really need help...do you know who Nicholas Flamel is? And I actually will be mysterious by not telling you why I need to know, so there! It's really important, though, so please, please, answer...please. I'm sure you know, you always know just about everything, or at least the right things to ask to find out what you want or need to know._

_Hope you're doing ok wherever you are..._

_Harry_

* * *

A/N: Next chapter will have a slightly disastrous Boggart lesson, a birthday party, and a useful discovery...will take place in two times. ~DF~

* * *

Reply to anonymous review:

**Some1:** Thanks! I was trying to get the disclaimers to be something that people would read as well...I'm glad I succeeded...

I'm flattered that you'll keep reading the story even without liking the plot...hopefully that'll change as the story goes on...

Merci du compliment (don't ask why I'm using French so much lately, I'm not really sure) and thanks for reviewing,

~DawnFire~

* * *

**March 8, 2010:** Formerly chapter 14. ~DF~


	13. Thirteen

**DISCLAIMER:** I promise you, this is not mine. I mean, the story is. But the original HP series isn't. Got it? *No!* Bother you! *Why _bother_?* Because I can! *Huh. Well, you don't have to go all Dark on us...* Hmph!

Well, now that I've finished this wonderful conversation that's probably with myself...Happy birthday!

*Hobbit rushes in and whispers frantically in DawnFire's ear*

Oh, it's not anyone's birthday? Oops. ... Wait, I know how to solve that!

Happy un-Birthday!

*Hobbit sighs in exasperation and leaves to...do something. Hobbity stuff. In Rivendell. Huh, I wonder who that Hobbit _is_...*

Right. I don't own Harry Potter, yada yada yada. Can we move on now?

* * *

_"What is this place?"_

* * *

**_TthHIirRTteEEenN_**

_(Tom Riddle Time)_

"Now, who knows what a Boggart is?"

Everyone exchanged glances and shrugged.

"No one?"

Silence.

"Very well, then. A Boggart is a creature that takes the form of the worst fear of the person nearest to it. The more there are, the more confused it becomes. No one knows what a Boggart such as the one inside this chest looks like before it is released, because it becomes the nearest person's worst fear the second it exits. The counter-charm is _riddikulus_. Using this charm, you will attempt to change your worst fear into something funny. Practice the charm now, without wands. _Riddikulus_!"

"_Riddikulus_!" repeated the class.

"Good! Now form a line. I will release the Boggart and let each of you have a go at confronting it."

Exchanging glances that were slightly worried, fearful, or downright alarmed, the Gryffindors formed a line.

The first few people did fine, making their classmates laugh more than once, but then it was the turn of a girl with wavy, black hair...

A large, black, cloaked _thing_ glided towards her, and she gaped at it, her wand nearly slipping from her slackened grasp.

"Remember the charm!" the teacher called from the other side of the room.

The entire class was shivering, and taking discreet steps backward.

The girl raised her wand, and lowered it, her eyes staring nearly _through_ the thing. She shook herself free, and raised her wand again, opening her mouth—

The thing glided closer, and her eyes glazed over again. When she pulled free this time, it took her longer, and she cried out as she did so.

"_Rid_—"she began, taking a step back, but the Boggart advanced once more and her eyes glazed once more.

"_Rid_—no—please—not—" Her voice kept changing, jumping from voice to voice with every word. "Get—help!" she stumbled backward in an attempt to get away from the Boggart, with no success. "_Help_!"

_(Founder Time)_

"No! No, no, no, _no_!"

Vase after vase exploded.

"_No_!" she screamed again, and five vases burst into pieces at once, scattering shards of pottery around the room.

"Gwen, dear, I know that you're angry, but I would appreciate it if you do not use my Room of Requirement for vase-shattering."

The child turned and launched herself at her adoptive aunt's skirts, sobbing.

"There, there," the woman soothed, smoothing her hand over Gwen's hair. "What is bothering you?"

"Ric," the girl sobbed, clutching at the woman's skirts for comfort. "He said I can't use his sword!"

Helga Hufflepuff was hard-pressed not to laugh. "Is that all, dear? You would not be able to even _lift_ your brother's sword, Gwen, it would be too heavy. Ric is only trying to make sure that you do not hurt yourself." She waited until the child's tears abated before she said, "Shall we descend to the Great Hall? It is your birthday today, remember..."

Tears forgotten, Gwen let go of Helga's skirts and bounced towards the door eagerly. "C'mon, Auntie Helga! Hurry, hurry, hurry!" She bounced impatiently as she waited for her adoptive aunt to catch up, and ran ahead of the laughing woman through the corridors, pausing at the end of each to wait for her to catch up, bouncing impatiently as she did so.

"There you are, Me-tooka," Gwen's mother smiled, as the recently-turned-five-year-old bounced in the door, dragging Helga behind her. "We were about to start without you." She exchanged a mischievous smile with Godric, who laughed, knowing that they had been doing nothing of the sort.

"S'not _my_ fault Auntie Helga's slow," Gwen replied, pouting. "I tried to be quicker, but she wouldn't _hurry_!"

Helga smiled ruefully as she took her seat. "I fear she is right, I find that I am much slower than our Gwen these days."

Gwen, bouncing in her seat, looked impatiently around at her extended family, all of whom were laughing at a joke that she didn't understand. "Can we start now? Please, please, please?"

Ayala Gryffindor laughed. "Have patience, Gwen Ophra, we are starting!"

Gwen bounced even more eagerly than before, nearly falling from her chair with excitement. When her mother used not only her first name but her middle name as well, it was usually a sign that something very, very good was going to happen. In this case, her birthday party.

And her birthday parties were always one of the best times of the year, so Gwen truly had reason for excitement.

_(Tom Riddle Time)_

She was struggling, trying to get free. Why couldn't she help?

_'Get him, save him, he's just gone through!'_

Someone was calling her name desperately...

_'Fawn! Fawn, he's gone after—'_

This was a different voice, though...

_'...nothing you can do...'_

And now a third voice...She had to help...but how?

The third voice spoke again. _'He's gone...'_

Heart wrenching grief that wasn't her own...denial...

With a gasp she struggled free of the voices, swimming up through darkness.

Blinking in the sudden bright light, she caught sight of a dark shape, and tried to focus on it. It took her a few tries before she managed.

Snickering slightly, the voices forgotten, she reached out to shake Tom Riddle awake from where he sprawled half-off a chair.

The third-year woke with a start, wand out and ready for attack.

"Calm down, Slytherin, it's just me."

"Gryffindor!" The wand went away, and Tom sat back, pushing disheveled hair out of his eyes. "I've got to get that cut...How're you feeling?"

"Bleary."

Tom grinned in relief. "Well, no lasting harm, I guess...C'mon, let's see if the matron'll let you out yet."

Madam Comfrey, alerted by the voices, bustled over.

"Well, you have given us a shock, and no mistake," she said to the girl, running diagnostic spells with her wand as she spoke. "Fainting like that!" She shook her head, making 'tsk tsk' noises as she did so. "Well, you're free to go, but if you have another fainting spell, you're to come back here immediately, understood?"

The girl rolled her eyes. "Yes'm," she said. Jumping out of the hospital wing bed, she grimaced at the absence of her day clothes, before spotting them on the table.

"Brilliant," she muttered, grabbing them. "Gimme a sec, Tom."

The boy nodded, and she ducked behind the curtains, changing quickly, before popping out again in a matter of seconds, one hand struggling to smooth her hair.

"C'mon, Slytherin, let's get out of here."

Offering no protest, Tom followed her out of the hospital wing.

"Finally," he muttered, once they were out of the matron's earshot. "C'mon, I want to show you something."

She followed the boy as he walked quickly up to the seventh floor, stopping with his back to a tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy trying to teach trolls ballet.

"What's here, Tom?" she asked. "S'just an empty wall, innit?"

"No." He started to pace, looking as if he was thinking.

"Slytherin, what—"

The door appearing in the previously empty wall stopped her.

"Tom, what is—"

"C'mon." The boy opened the door, motioning for his friend to follow him inside.

She did so, and gasped, staring at a comfortably elegant room painted and furnished in shades of gold and silver, and swirls of soft red and green.

"What _is_ this place?"

"Room of Requirement," Tom said, taking a seat in an armchair. "It becomes whatever you want when you walk three times in front of the wall thinking of what you want the Room to become. It can change to give you everything you need—well, except for food."

"Well, yeah, that's one of the exceptions to someone's law of elemental something-or-other, innit...how'd you find this place?"

"It was an accident, actually, they wouldn't let me into the hospital wing for a day—"

"A _day_? How long was I out?"

"The rest of yesterday, last night, and a few hours this morning. Comfrey wouldn't let me in until pretty late last night. Anyway, I was walking around, because I had nothing else to do, and then I ended up pacing, and wishing that there was somewhere to sit down—the door appeared, I opened it, and there was this room with an armchair! It was brilliant! So I experimented with it for a while until I had it figured out, and then I went back to the hospital wing and Comfrey finally let me in."

"Wicked," she murmured.

"So why _did_ you faint? The most I could make out from the garbled accounts of your classmates was that you'd been facing some big black _thing_ and then you were stumbling backwards, something weird happened, and then you were on the floor. Not very informative."

"It's worse than that," she said gloomily. "I'm not sure what that thing—my Boggart—I'm not sure what it was, but it had this—effect on me, Tom. I—" She shuddered. "It was awful. I couldn't even speak in my own voice—I felt like I'd never be happy ever again, but also—also—" She shuddered again. "Tom, you know those voices I hear sometimes, what I see? That's all I could use. I couldn't talk without using someone else's words, and it all jumbled together, it was all I could hear, and then I saw things as well, but then it was mostly just the voices—and I could take words from them, to use, but barely, I—" She broke off once again, shaking violently.

"Didn't the teacher put a stop to it?" the boy asked, leaning forward and frowning.

"Moving forward as I went down, I think," she mumbled. "Slytherin, do me a favor—help me find out what that thing was and then help me make sure I never run into one ever again, alright?"

"Done and done," he said quietly. "Library?"

She nodded. "Library."

They left the Room of Requirement in silence, both lost in thought, Tom occasionally glancing over to make sure she was still there, still alright. She was.

She always was.

* * *

A/N: Secret given away there...hopefully you caught it.

Next chapter: Various continuations in various times of the phrase: 'I've been thinking...' :D

Yours,

DawnFire

* * *

**March 8, 2010:** Formerly chapter 15. ~DF~


	14. Fourteen

**DISCLAIMER:** If you have not yet realized that I am not JK Rowling, I am afraid there may be no hope for you. Sorry. Have someone take you to St. Mungo's. :D

* * *

_"It is a sad trial, this love...But nevertheless, I shall take the good with the ill."_

* * *

_x**XFourteenX**x_

_(Marauder Time)_

"I've been thinking," Sirius began

"Always a dangerous concept," James snickered. "Go on, though, mate, what were you thinking about?"

"Why you persist in chasing Evans when she hates you...and a few pranks for Snivellus..."

"Of course," Remus muttered, rolling his eyes.

"Well, go on," Peter said excitedly. "Why _does_ James chase Evans?"

Sirius straightened importantly, putting a solemn look on his face. "After giving much thought to the matter, I have come to the conclusion that..."

The other three Marauders waited in anticipation, curiosity peaked.

After a full minute, during which Sirius had not continued, Remus sighed. "Well?"

"Huh?" Sirius jerked, startled. He seemed to have gone into some sort of trance while they had been waiting for him to speak.

"Evans," Peter prompted impatiently. "Why does James keep chasing her?"

"Oh!" Sirius said. "Yeah...he's mental."

Remus slapped his forehead. "You just figured that out _now_?"

Sirius shrugged. "Maybe..."

Peter sighed. "Even _I_ knew that already, Sirius."

James scowled at his friends. "I'll get her eventually."

Remus shook his head. "Good luck with that, James."

"You'd better learn patience," Sirius smirked.

"Why?"

"You're going to be waiting for her to say yes for _eternity_," Sirius grinned. He then took one look at the expression on James' face, and ran for it, yelling as he went.

"Don't kill me! Don't kill me! I'm just giving you advice! You wouldn't kill your best friend, would you? Your best friend who just gave you good advice? Noooo! James! Hellllp!"

"I'll get you, Sirius Black! You can run, but you can't hide!"

"You'll never catch me! ... James? James, what are you doing with that frying pan? Put it down, James...put it down...James?"

James laughed maniacally.

Sirius ran faster.

Peter turned to Remus with a confused expression on his face. "Where did he get the frying pan from in the first place?"

Remus opened his mouth to answer, and then closed it. Shaking his head slowly, he replied simply, "I have no idea."

* _(Harry/Present Time)_

"I've been thinking."

"What about?"

Fred smirked. "A new prank, what else?"

George and Lee snickered.

"Right, so here's the plan. You know the Slytherins?"

"Who doesn't?"

"Well, how d'you think they'd look as giant chickens?"

George gave his twin an odd look. Lee just looked confused.

"'Giant chickens'?"

"'Course." Fred settled himself more comfortably on his armchair in the deserted Gryffindor common room. "See, they're all about snakes, yeah?"

George and Lee nodded, wondering where he was going with this.

"So what do snakes eat?" Fred continued, grinning.

"Birds, I suppose," Lee replied slowly, and understanding (and grins) dawned on his and George's faces. "But why chickens?"

Fred shrugged. "Why not?"

"True," George mused. "Why not? How're we going to pull it off, though?"

"Well, there's this spell..."

* _(Tom Riddle Time)_

"I've been thinking."

"Have you?" She yawned.

He stopped, and frowned. "Late night?"

She shrugged, and yawned again. "Myrtle kept me up—Olive's been teasing her again."

"Ah, yes, the Ravenclaw...Why does she do it?"

"No idea...maybe Myrtle's just an easy target...anyway, what did you want to tell me?"

"Oh, well..." Tom trailed off. "Never mind, Gryffindor. I think I'll tell you later, after I've found it..." He started to walk away.

"After you've found what?" she called after him. Tom just waved, and kept on walking. "Slytherin! After you've found _what_?"

Tom flashed her a smile and turned a corner.

By the time she rounded the corner after him, he was gone.

* _(Founder Time)_

"I've been thinking."

"And what have you come up with?"

Godric glanced around quickly, and then shrugged. "What else, my love, but plans for..."

"Your next class?"

Godric opened his mouth to answer, and closed it. "No, actually. I still have to do that. Blast..."

Ayala giggled. "I will help you later. But what were you really thinking of?"

Godric shrugged. "I was thinking of taking a day or two off to go to the tourney in York."

Ayala's hand flew to her mouth. "Oh, must you?"

"I assure you, my love, I have done this for years and never been hurt. You worry too much."

"Oh, but—but what about Gwen? She was so looking forward to spending time with you...and Ric! What of Ric? Were you not to teach him a new weapon?"

Godric shrugged. "Mayhap I shall take him with me, Ayala. I am certain he would not mind seeing a tourney. And I have spent the past week with Gwen, right up until this very moment; I doubt she will miss me overmuch."

As though to prove his point, he reached down and lifted the four-year-old clinging to his leg. The little girl giggled as he swung her around briefly before lowering her to rest with her head upon his shoulder.

"Well, I suppose..." Ayala conceded, a slight smile nearly overtaking the worry on her fair face. "But do try not to get hurt!"

Godric grinned, and kissed his wife's cheek. "I will keep myself in one piece for you, never you fear."

Ayala smiled the sweet smile that had made Godric notice her in the first place. "I shall not fear, then, my love. Godspeed."

Godric bowed, and walked off to find Ric, still carrying little Gwen, who waved, giggling, at her mother over her father's shoulder.

Ayala waved back, smiling, but the smile soon faded.

"It is a sad trial, this love," she murmured. "I was warned of this. But nevertheless, I shall take the good with the ill." She smoothed her gown, waved once more to Gwen, and set off for a walk in the grounds, a wistful smile now playing about her lips.

* * *

**A/N 2:** Hi...Credits for the Giant Chicken idea go to myself and Obsessed With Saint Dane (OWSD) for originally having that, even in a different story universe, and also, I think, to the Huntress's sister, who I believe suggested a prank that turned either the Slytherins or the Death Eaters into Giant Chickens. During Potions class, actually...

The girl addressed as 'Gryffindor' in Tom Riddle Time? That's Fawn Silver. Just thought I'd put that out there, since by this point it's already been let out.

Oh, and...remember the hobbit from last chapter? In the disclaimer, I think? Well, he went to Rivendell and complained to Lord Elrond that I was channeling Alice in Wonderland-though how a hobbit would know about that book I have no idea-and now I have two elves glaring at me whenever I even think about Alice in Wonderland. Which isn't that often, thankfully-elf glares are scary. But the elves are cool when they're not glaring. Pretty fun, actually. They're going back to Rivendell tomorrow, though-pity. Maybe I'll get to visit? :D

~DawnFire~

* * *

**March 8, 2010: **Formerly chapter 16. ~DF~


	15. Fifteen

A/N: Welcome, my friends, to the 15th chapter of Fawn Silver. My sincere apologies for the long wait. Please visit the profile page for details on various stories...

Yours,

~DawnFire~

* * *

**DISCLAIMER:** This is the fifteenth time I'm writing a disclaimer for this story. And the very word 'disclaimer' still implies that I don't own Harry Potter.

* * *

_'Dumbledore is no fool; he no doubt knows more than he seems to in this matter.'_

* * *

******_Fifteen51|15neetfiF_**

_Harry's Time** (May 1992)**_

Fawn was pacing her office, frowning, trying to figure out what was going on.

Nothing made sense. She understood that being back at Hogwarts would be prompting memories—it certainly had the first time she'd returned—but there was absolutely no reason for her to be seeing things from a time so long ago that it was impossible for her to merely be remembering things! The visions were fuzzy, certainly, blurred, but the fact remained that she had never seen visions from the past before...was she developing some new 'talent'? If so, it was unwanted—she really didn't need the confusion of trying to sort the far past, from her memories, from the future.

A fresh vision broke into her befuddled thoughts.

_It was rich in color, sound, and chaos. Fireworks burst everywhere, students laughed, and teachers smirked slightly behind the back of a disheveled woman who bore a remarkable resemblance to a toad dressed in pink. As she watched, two identical redheads slapped their hands together, grinning broadly. Around them, more and more people gathered, flocking to congratulate the duo and order their own fireworks._

The scene faded, and she was left looking at her office wall once more.

Fawn Silver's laughter rang around the room, all worries temporarily forgotten.

**_June 1992_**

_Hi,_

_Sorry for not writing for so long, I've been rather busy..._

_None of us had found anything on Nicholas Flamel, so I was very glad to get your letter telling me who he is. And maybe I shouldn't put the next bit in a letter, but I'm going to anyway._

_Voldemort's not dead. And he's after a Philosopher's Stone, which is being kept at Hogwarts. We think Snape's after it for him; there's no one else who seems likely. We also think that Snape's trying to get Quirrell to tell him how to get past whatever Quirrell's enchantment is—the Stone's under protection, by the way. Dumbledore, McGonagall, Quirrell, Hagrid, Flitwick, Sprout, and Snape himself all did something to protect it. We think he knows everything but how to get past Quirrell's enchantment._

_Exams are practically here. My scar's been hurting worse than ever. If you have any advice for me, I'd be glad to have it. Other than that, wish me luck on my exams, I suppose..._

_No real point in asking where you are or what you're doing right now, is there? I won't bother. I'm glad you didn't mind me staying here for Christmas, by the way; I had a lot of fun, and found out some stuff that I wouldn't have otherwise..._

_I saw my parents. Really saw them. In something called the Mirror of Erised. I don't think I'd trade that for anything; I hope you understand._

_I've got to finish this, Hermione's badgering me about only having another 45 minutes before the first exam, and how I should send this now if I want to send it before exams start._

_Harry_

**__-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-f_-i_-f_-t_-e_-e_-n_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-__**

_Dear Harry,_

_I do understand, never fear. And may I say once again that I am sorry not to have shown you pictures of your parents before—I could not show you wizarding pictures before you knew that magic existed. As to why I could not simply tell you about magic (which I'm sure you'll ask me as soon as you remember to), it was not my place._

_I wish you good luck with the exams, though by the time you receive this letter you will no doubt have already finished with at least several of them._

_The news of the Stone is worrying. I dearly hope that Snape is not after the Stone, for his own sake._

_When you return for the summer, I shall expect you to recount how it is that you know that Voldemort has not died. In the meantime, you must realize that Dumbledore no doubt knows that if Voldemort were to gain the Philosopher's Stone the results would be disastrous. Dumbledore is no fool; he no doubt knows more than he seems to in this matter._

_I do not know why your scar would be hurting; if you have the chance, I believe you should ask Dumbledore._

_I am glad that my information on Nicholas Flamel helped you._

_I am rather distracted at the moment, I'm afraid, so you must forgive me if this letter seems rushed or hastily written._

_I expect you will have some stories to tell me when you return from the summer. I shall see you perhaps a few days into the summer vacation—I will owl you the exact date when I can. Or perhaps I shall simply show up, to see what color your uncle's face will turn..._

_Your,_

_Eccentric Aunt_

_Marauder Time** (197-)**_

She was bent over, clutching the table's edge with whitened fingers. Her breathing was ragged. Every minute or so her eyes glazed over.

_'How much time?'_

_'As long's it takes, I suppose.'_

Gasp. Breathe in. Breathe out. She raised her head, and her eyes glazed once more.

_'I can't leave you.'_

A choked cry now, and a shuddering breath. _Hands, long-fingered and pale_...

A blink, and her own white-knuckled hands returned.

_'Dumbledore?'_

_'Leave me.'_

_'Grab his legs!'_

_'Do not disobey me, Auror...'_

_'Join me.'_

_'Get out of here!'_

_'...forget about it. For me.'_

The voices ran through her mind, images flashing before her eyes.

_'Liar.'_

_'Thief!'_

_'Run! Run!'_

_'You traitor...'_

_'Please...'_

She gasped for breath before the visions pulled her under again.

_'Keep him safe.'_

_'Help! Get—help!'_

_'We can't hold them off!'_

_'He played Seeker.'_

_'You're not—'_

_'Get away from me, you freak!'_

_'Watch what I can do...'_

_'Professor...'_

_"Professor."_

"Professor?"

Wide-eyed, pale, and breathing heavily, she looked up. "What is it?"

"Are—are you alright?"

"Fine. Did you need something?"

The student shrank back, a little startled by the clipped tone. "N-no, ma'am."

Fawn nodded slowly, unsmiling. "Get to class, then."

The girl nodded, and left, eyes a little wider than usual. She didn't dare point out that there were no classes, that day being Sunday.

Behind her, the teacher sighed. Unclenching her hands from the wooden desk, she covered her eyes and, staggering back a step, collapsed into the chair. She shifted back a little, ignoring the hard wood that pressed against her spine.

_What to do, what to do..._

"My eyes hurt," she muttered. "An' my throat. An'—an' my mind, I s'pose."

This was not a good day. Not at all.

She barely had time to gasp before the next vision pulled her in.

-END PRELUDE AND FIRST YEAR-

* * *

A/N 2: Please note, Fawn Silver is not over. Chapter 16 is in the process. Check profile page for details on how Fawn Silver works...

And, may I say, it is a pleasure to be finally posting the next chapter of this story.

~DawnFire~

* * *

**March 8, 2010:** Formerly chapter 17. This is the end of the edit. ~DawnFire~


	16. Sixteen: Summer Interlude

**DISCLAIMER:** I _really_ don't own Harry Potter. I promise. Just borrowing temporarily. The line about Horcruxes (Tom asking Prof. Slughorn) is a direct quote from HBP.

* * *

_"I can't forget about the Dark Arts."_

* * *

Sixteen: Summer Interlude

_(Tom Riddle Time)_

"You are not making a Horcrux, Tom."

He didn't turn, knowing who the speaker was.

"What's a Horcrux?"

"You know very well what a Horcrux is."

He sighed. "Who said I was making a Horcrux?"

"You did."

"No I didn't."

She sighed too. "I heard you. You're planning to make seven." She quoted the words he had spoken minutes before. "'I mean, would one Horcrux be much use? Can you only split your soul once? Wouldn't it be better, make you stronger, to have your soul in more pieces? I mean, for instance, isn't seven the most powerfully magical number, wouldn't seven—?'" She had done a perfect imitation, but for the fact that her voice was shaking a little. "I don't like your fascination with the Dark Arts, Slytherin. I want you to forget about it. For me."

"I'll forget about it."

Her eyes narrowed. "Liar."

He sighed. "I'm sorry, Gryffindor. I can't forget about the Dark Arts."

"You scare me sometimes, Tom. Like now."

"I know. I'm really sorry, Fawn."

"I know, Slytherin." Her voice was heavy. "But I fear that, in time, I will be more sorry than you."

* * *

_(Harry/Present Time)_

As promised, Fawn sent no real warning, but simply appeared and number four Privet Drive several days after Harry returned there for the summer. Harry was alerted to this—and ripped out of a sound sleep at the same time—by Vernon Dursley's bellow.

"Boy!"

Harry started, and fell out of bed.

"_Boy_!" Vernon repeated, even louder. Harry reflected blearily as he reached for his glasses that the front door must be shut, for his uncle to risk yelling so loudly. He put on the glasses one-handed as Vernon continued to bellow, this time a rather welcome phrase. "Your _aunt_ is here!"

_What?_ Harry thought. His sleep-befuddled thoughts flicked back to the last letter he had received from Fawn Silver, at the very end of his first year at Hogwarts.

_I shall see you perhaps a few days into the summer vacation—I will owl you the exact date when I can. Or perhaps I shall simply show up, to see what color your uncle's face will turn..._

Grabbing the first set of clothes he could find, Harry threw them on and almost ran down the stairs, wondering what color Uncle Vernon's face had, in fact, turned.

It was a fairly normal scene that Harry saw at the foot of the stairs. Fawn, tall as ever, her dark hair pulled into a long braid, leaned against the door, a half-annoyed half-amused expression on her face. She nodded to Harry and then motioned with eyes and head at Uncle Vernon. Harry looked to where his uncle stood at the foot of the staircase, and stifled a snicker. Vernon Dursley's face was a deep reddish-purple. Behind him, just in front of the kitchen door, stood Petunia Dursley, a pinched, disapproving look on her face. Upstairs, Dudley snored on.

Petunia turned her disapproving gaze from Fawn to Harry, and sniffed. Fawn followed Petunia's gaze, and raised a loosely fisted hand to press against her mouth. Amusement started to win over in her expression as her eyes crinkled slightly in a smile.

"Kid," she said quietly, taking her hand away from her mouth, an amused smile tugging at her lips, "did you dress that way on purpose, or did you just not bother looking at what you were putting on?"

Confused, Harry just blinked at her. Then he thought to look down at his clothing.

He was wearing a horrid pair of dressy, plaid trousers that had once belonged to Dudley. They had been a birthday present several years before from Aunt Petunia's friend, Yvonne. Yvonne, who didn't see Dudley or pictures of Dudley very often, had misjudged his waistline, and so the plaid trousers had passed almost immediately to Harry. The best Harry had ever been able to say about them was that they were new, and fit him much better than most of Dudley's castoffs.

Unfortunately, the shirt he was wearing was even worse than the trousers: a frilly, old-fashioned, eggplant-purple thing that had been part of a costume for a play Dudley had faked sick to get out of. The shirt, like so many things that the youngest Dursley didn't want to wear, had passed to Harry.

In fact, Harry reflected gloomily, just about the only things he was wearing that he didn't want to burn were his trainers.

Harry motioned vaguely up the stairs. "I'll just—er—just go—" And with that bit of eloquence, he beat a hasty retreat to his room.

Several minutes later, dressed in a more normal outfit, Harry descended the stairs once more, to find that Dudley was still snoring, Aunt Petunia had retreated to the kitchen, and Uncle Vernon's face was now a purplish-red. Fawn, it seemed, had not moved. She looked bored until she spotted Harry, and then she looked rather relieved.

"C'mon," she said, and several seconds later they were out the door.

She hadn't brought a car today, Harry noted as he walked down the driveway next to her. So they were either staying in Little Whinging or using magical transport...

Apparently they were staying in Little Whinging, for Fawn was taking the turns that would bring them to the park that Harry had once visited as often as possible on his way home from primary school.

As they walked, Fawn questioned him quietly on the events of his first year at Hogwarts: had he liked it? How had he become the youngest Seeker in a century? What had happened with the Philosopher's Stone? Harry answered as best he could, telling her the answers to her questions and more besides. Fawn listened, occasionally asking another question. She paled when he told her of coming face-to-face with Voldemort, murmuring, "Good Merlin." She grilled him for every detail of what Voldemort had said before she let the subject drop, asking him about the exams. Half an hour after they had reached the nearly deserted park, Fawn had been given a very good summary of most of Harry's doings in the past year.

"You said something about the Mirror of Erised," she said suddenly, breaking the silence that had fallen. "How did you come to see it?"

"Well—you know how I got my dad's Invisibility Cloak? Well, I went to the Restricted Section of the Library with it, but the book I opened started wailing, and then Filch came. I ran until I found a door, and I went inside. Filch went past. Inside the room was the Mirror."

"So you looked in it," Fawn murmured. She sighed. "What did you see, kid? I can't remember what you wrote."

"My family," Harry replied. "My parents and grandparents, and so many more...but they're all dead, aren't they, Fawn?"

"Dead or worse," Fawn replied. "For the most part, anyway. Your more distant relatives, however..."

Harry's eyes widened. "I have living relatives? Other than the Dursleys, and you?"

Fawn smiled slightly. "Kid, technically I don't know if I'm your relative. I might be, I might not. I'm just assuming that, what with all the relations between the pureblood families, I might be related to a Potter somehow. Technically, my only claim to you is that I care for you and your parents asked me to keep you safe. And that I was at school when your parents were." She sighed. "But yes, you do have living relatives." Harry was momentarily confused, until he remembered what his original question had been. "Through the Blacks especially.

"You must realize, Harry, that you're related to just about every pureblood in the wizarding world. Distantly, but you're still related. You're distantly related to your friend Ron. To young Neville Longbottom. To any McMillans. Prewetts. You're even related to your godfather, although distantly. All of this is distant.

"Of course, there's a downside, too. You're also related to many Voldemort supporters. Most of the Blacks followed him, or at least thought he had the right idea. Rosier, Selwyn, Crabbe..."

"_Crabbe_?" Harry couldn't believe it. "What—I don't want to be related to Crabbe! Next you'll be telling me I'm related to—to Malfoy, or something!"

"You are." Fawn grinned. "And only a little more distantly than you're related to your godfather."

Harry gagged. "Are you joking?"

"No." Fawn stopped by a bench and sat down, motioning for Harry to sit next to her. "His mother was your godfather's cousin, and your godfather and your father were something like...great-cousins? I don't know the correct term, but they were related. Something like their grandparents or great-grandparents were siblings...no, that's not right, I've got it mixed up...well, anyway. You are related to Draco Malfoy, but, again, rather distantly." She smiled. "So you see, you do have some pretty distant family...Has anyone ever told you, the wizarding world is interrelated?"

Harry shook his head, still trying to comprehend the fact that he and _Malfoy_ were related, even distantly.

"You'll get used to it," Fawn told him. "Most people only acknowledge their more immediate family, as well as cousins and such. It makes things simpler than going around saying, 'How could you do that to me? Your mother was my father's great-grandmother's first cousin sixteen times removed!'" She laughed. "Much easier to just say, 'How dare you?' and hex them."

They sat in silence for a while. Finally, as the sun shone brightly overhead, Harry thought of something.

"Say, Fawn?"

"Yeah?"

"Have you ever looked in the Mirror of Erised?"

Fawn sighed. "Once."

A pause, and then, "What did you see?"

She was silent for a long moment, but finally she spoke. "A future that will never be."

Chancing a glance at Fawn, Harry saw her frowning slightly and staring at nothing in particular.

Harry bit his lip, and was about to change the subject, when Fawn spoke, her eyes still fixed on something distant.

"Harry, I'm afraid I'm not going to be around for the rest of the summer."

Harry gaped at her. "_What_?"

Fawn sighed. "I've got to go away for a bit. I'm afraid I'll be too busy to write very often."

"But _why_?"

She looked at him, for the first time since he had mentioned the Mirror of Erised. "I can't tell you, Harry."

"You never can." He hadn't meant to sound so accusing, but he found that he didn't really care.

She didn't even flinch, just looked at him sadly. In her eyes was something ancient, untouchable. He wished she would speak, do something other than _look_, with a crease between her eyebrows, but she stayed like that until he began to fidget. Only then did she move, her eyes closing tightly momentarily before she reached out and grasped his shoulder.

"I am sorry," she said quietly, "but this is how it must be." She squeezed his shoulder gently and then let go, standing smoothly. "Come. Where would you like to go?"

He should have shouted; he _wanted_ to shout, to scream at her until she told him that she would stay, that there was nothing more important than spending the summer with _him_. But he knew it wouldn't work, and so he just shrugged in reply to her question.

She cared for him; he knew that. But much as he wanted her to be his real family, to take him away from the Dursleys forever, he knew that—for some unexplainable reason—she would never do that.

And he knew that he would never be able to convince her otherwise.

* * *

He leaned back in his chair, rereading a letter—more of a note, really—that he had received close to fourteen years previously. He had his suspicions, and this could well be the evidence he needed to confirm them...

_Dear Albus,_

_I fear I must apologize for the trouble I have brought upon you. You gave me kindness—far more than I deserve—and I have repaid you with danger and inquiries. I am truly sorry. Should I ever presume to trespass upon your good will again, I will be sure to do it in such a way that I will not be found out—and that if I am, it will be impossible for you to be held responsible._

_I thank you from the bottom of my heart for all that you have done for me over the years._

_Sincerely,_

_FS_

The Headmaster's eyes twinkled.

* * *

_Dear Harry,_

_I hope you're doing well...There is not much that I am doing that I can tell you about—to do so would be more risky than you know—but I am not doing very much in any case, so you're not missing much._

_I __am__ rather busy, unfortunately, so I will keep this letter (or note, I suppose) short; in fact, I will only say two things more: that I hope you're having a good summer and that if your...__relatives__...do anything, write me and I'll see what I can do._

_Your_

_Eccentric Aunt_

* * *

_Hi,_

_I'm doing all right now—I'm at the Burrow, with the Weasleys. It's great, I love it here! The Dursleys shut me in my room for a while—they finally figured out that I can't do magic outside of school (I got a warning letter from the Ministry because a house-elf did a Hover Charm—he was also stopping my post, he stopped, though, which is why I got your letter at all. I hope you didn't send any other letters, because if you did, I didn't get them and I haven't got any way to get them. Anyway, the Dursleys—Fred, George, and Ron came and got me out, it was great!)_

_Are you sure you can't tell me what you're so busy with?_

_Hope you're having a good summer,_

_Harry_

* * *

The reply came almost immediately.

_Harry,_

_The Dursleys did __what__?_

_Don't worry, I won't go after them. I'll definitely be having words with them next time our paths cross, though._

_I'm glad to hear you're with the Weasleys now and having fun. That's definitely better._

_How did they get you out?_

_And yes, Harry, I'm sure I can't tell you what I'm so busy with. My apologies, but it's something I don't want known, even by you._

_Hope to hear from you soon._

_Your,_

_Eccentric Aunt_

_PS: I assume the Weasleys will be taking you to Diagon Alley to buy your school materials? E. A._

Knowing Fawn, Harry was pretty sure that she had been restraining several rants on his behalf throughout the entire (short) letter. Something warm went through him at the thought that she cared that much.

Grinning, Harry put quill to parchment and began to pen his reply.

* * *

**A/N**: Wow, I haven't written one of these in so long. Hi there, anyone who's still reading. I'm really sorry for the delay in this chapter, I've actually had it more or less written for a while. School got in the way, though, so Silver and I got very, very busy. I did finally finish the chapter, but Silver actually still hasn't had time to beta it, so...there will probably be a replaced, edited/betaed version of this chapter coming. On the other hand, she did see rather a lot of the chapter before...

Well, I'll wish you all Happy Holidays, and apologize again for the long wait for the chapter-

~DawnFire~

PS: Just noticed that this chapter is mainly Present Time...well, it _is_ the summer interlude. That means that next chapter will begin (in Present Time, at least) Harry's second year at Hogwarts...Between each year, by the way, will be a chapter either covering the summer or just being scenes completely from the past. It's not just a one-time thing. ~DF~

PPS: Oh, and-credit for Harry's...unique outfit go to two, I think, of my friends. Yvonne, however, is canon-she's a friend of Petunia's, and in the first book is on holiday in Majorca, which means that she can't take Harry while the Dursleys go to the zoo for Dudley's birthday. ~DF~


	17. Seventeen

**DISCLAIMER:** Seventeenth time lucky? No? Oh, well. I guess I still don't own _Harry Potter_, only various original characters and the occasional non-canonical situation. I also don't own the line "Hurry, kids, we're gonna miss the train!". It comes from_ A Very Potter Sequel_, and is here because it got stuck in my head. Read on!

* * *

_"I will always forgive you, Tom. And I will never stop being your friend."_

* * *

Seventeen

_(Harry's Time)_

"Professor!"

"Hello, professor!"

"Wonderful to see you!"

"Did you miss us?"

The other speaker turned to his identical twin brother, looking surprised. "Of course she missed us, Fred, who wouldn't?"

"Oh, right, of course." Fred nodded at his twin, and then they both turned to their victim—er, to the professor they were talking to. "We missed you too, Professor Deer!"

Sylvia Deer laughed. "I'm glad to hear it, boys. Where's your friend?"

"Lee?"

"Of course Lee, who else would she mean?"

"She could mean Angelina, or Katie—"

"Or maybe even Alicia, or Oliver—"

"Or maybe," the professor cut in, before they could continue listing friends, "I meant Lee Jordan."

"Oh, Lee."

"He's back in the common room."

"Said something about doing homework." Both twins grimaced.

"And it's only the first week back, too!" This was a rather horrified addition from Fred.

The professor laughed again, pushing honey-blonde curls behind her ear. "Well, now that we've established your friend's whereabouts, how about you tell me what you want?" Olive-green eyes sparkled at them, as though inviting the twin redheads to share a joke.

"Want?" One twin turned to the other, looking offended. "George, she thinks we want something!"

George looked almost ready to cry. "You don't think that maybe we just wanted to say hello?"

"To welcome you back?" Now Fred was acting hurt as well.

"To tell you we missed you?" George actually sniffed.

"I don't believe it!"

"We're hurt," George informed the professor. "Aren't we, Fred?"

"Absolutely, George. We may never recover!"

Professor Deer looked sympathetic for a moment before she began to giggle. "You two should be professional actors. You'd be great at it."

Both twins immediately lost their saddened-and-hurt expressions, grinning instead. "You caught us," Fred said cheerfully. "We do want something."

"Nothing painful, though," George assured her. "Just a question."

"Just a question?"

"Just a question."

The teacher sighed. "Alright, I'll bite. What's the question?"

"Right." Fred suddenly looked very businesslike. "We've been working on a plan, but we're missing something, and without it, we can't put the plan into action."

"Really can't," George added. "It just can't work. I mean, we could try it, but there's too much hit and miss for it to work very well."

"So we need your help," Fred continued. "One answer from you, and we can fine-tune the plan and put it in action. Just one answer."

"One answer, huh?" Professor Deer crossed her arms, looking down at them with faint suspicion.

"One answer," Fred repeated.

"And the question?"

George looked at Fred. Fred looked at George. They both nodded and, looking back at the teacher, they spoke as one.

"What's Padfoot's real name?"

The woman's breath rushed out, surprise, shock, and then realization flitting across her face.

"So that's your game," she said quietly. "I should have known."

"Will you tell us?" The twins didn't care about anything just then except getting hold of Padfoot's name.

"You want to try to spring him from Azkaban."

"Yeah. You said he's innocent—"

"I said I'm pretty sure he's innocent. I don't actually have conclusive proof past a hunch and several educated guesses, none of which would hold up in court too well."

"But he's Padfoot," Fred said. "He's a Marauder. A Marauder wouldn't—"

"A Marauder _did_," Sylvia Deer snapped. "The only question is, which one?"

Fred and George exchanged glances, unsure of how to reply. There was silence.

Finally, the professor sighed. "I'm not going to tell you. I can't take the chance."

"What chance?"

"That I'm wrong. I've been wrong before, many times. I try to learn from my mistakes."

"So you definitely won't tell us?"

"I definitely won't tell you. Maybe someday, but not now. Now, enough. I have a class to make lesson plans for." She hesitated momentarily. "I think the phrase is, see you around?"

They watched her walk away with twin expressions of disbelief.

* * *

_(Founder Time)_

"Gwen! For the last time—"

"But I don't want you to go!"

"Gwen, it is a simple tournament. I will return within a week."

The four-year-old sniffled. "You promise?"

"I swear it." Ric tickled his younger sister in an attempt to make her smile. She squirmed, stubbornly pouting at the twelve-year-old, who continued to tickle her until she screamed with laughter.

When Ric set off for the tournament, Gwen waved to him from her father's shoulders. And when he returned, she ran to him, and he swung her around and around, both of them giggling happily.

* * *

_(Marauder Time)_

"I can't believe Hufflepuff won the House Cup," James repeated. "That _never_ happens!"

"It must happen sometimes," Remus reasoned. "I mean, it's not possible that they've never, in a thousand years, won the House Cup."

"At least it wasn't the Slytherins," Peter put in.

"It should have been Gryffindor," Sirius insisted. "We've worked hard all year, we even won the Quidditch Cup—"

"I think all the pranks we pulled didn't really help," Remus said dryly.

"But at least Slytherin didn't win," Peter repeated.

"Yeah, some comfort—"

"It is, actually!" James grinned at Sirius. "We might not have won, but neither did the Slytherins, and what's worse—they got beat by _Hufflepuff_!"

Sirius slowly started to smirk.

Remus sighed. "You're not going to start taunting Slytherins about this on the train, are you?"

He received two grins and an uncertain shrug in response.

Remus sighed, and started thinking of books that he could read on the train in an attempt to ignore his friends' antics. Hm, the Minister's autobiography sounded good…

"Remus! Come on!"

Remus looked up, startled. "What?"

"Hurry, kids, we're gonna miss the train!" Sirius said in a high-pitched voice, and the four fell about, laughing. Soon enough, they were on the train, heading home for the summer, Sirius and James taunting any Slytherin who walked by, Peter cheering them on, and Remus determinedly reading his book.

Remus could only hope that next year Gryffindor would win the House Cup…

* * *

_(Tom Riddle Time-early 4th year)_

"I just don't understand." The dark-haired boy leaned back in his armchair and tilted his head back, eyes closing. "Why would I make that diary?"

"I _don't know_." The equally dark-haired girl, curled opposite him on a couch, tugged at the end of her braid in annoyance. "And that's a problem, if you really want to prevent it—"

"I do."

"Well, then." The girl leaned forward, watching him carefully. "What sort of spells would make something that says it's a memory of you, but seems more like a part of you?"

"I. Don't. _Know_!" the boy snarled, sitting upright and opening his eyes. "I've never heard of anything like that, even with the research I did over the summer, and frankly, I don't see why I'd want to make it! Especially now that I know I'm _going_ to make it! Gryffindor, this doesn't make any sense!" He jumped up and started to pace. "Why would I make that diary, especially now that I know I'm going to make it? Why wouldn't I now avoid it? And what could change in the next year and a half to make me want to do it? It's not even what I was researching before you had that vision, it doesn't make _sense_!"

The girl frowned. "What _were_ you researching?"

"Nothing." The boy dismissed the subject with a wave of his hand. Ceasing to pace, he leaned against the side of the fireplace. "It's not important."

"I beg to differ." The girl stood and came to lean against the other side of the fireplace. "It could be very important, especially considering that we're trying to stop you from creating—"

"Trust me, Silver, it has nothing to do with that diary." The boy's voice was cold, dismissive. "It's just a legend that I'm researching to see if it's true. I've been doing it for several years now."

The girl's eyes narrowed. "What legend would this be, Slytherin?"

"One that has no bearing on anything we're discussing, Gryffindor." His tone remained cold, and the girl scowled at him.

"Is there a reason you've been acting like this, Tom? Have I annoyed you in some way?" In spite of her annoyance, a little insecurity managed to creep into her voice.

"Acting like what?" He didn't look at her.

"Like _that_. Cold, like you don't care about anything. Like you'd love to ignore me completely, but can't afford to."

He blinked, and finally looked at her, startled. "Is that how I sound?" He sounded surprised, and rather warmer, more human, than he had before.

"Yes. So, is there a reason? Have I done something?"

He hesitated for a while, scowling, before he spoke. "_Must_ you befriend first-years? Especially one like _that_?"

"_What_?" she demanded.

"I said—"

"I heard you." Now it was her turn to sound cold. "I'll befriend whomever I please. I don't try to dictate who your friends should be, even when I don't like the crowd you run with—"

"They're not _friends_," he scoffed.

"Then what are they?"

He shrugged.

"Alright." The girl pushed off from the fireplace, walking to look her friend in the eye. He straightened as well, no longer leaning on the fireplace, and met her gaze squarely. "I'll leave your choice of—of companions, or whatever you call them, to you, and you'll leave my choice of friends to me. And you'll stop treating me like you want to be anywhere else but where I am, got it?"

"I reserve the right to express my opinions."

"As do I, but Tom—expressing opinions is one thing. Implying or outright saying that I shouldn't be friends with someone is another."

"Understood."

"Good." She sighed. "We should probably head back, it's getting late. Maybe if one or both of us gets Prefect next year…" She shrugged, her sentence trailing off into a yawn. "G'night, Slytherin." She hugged him briefly and set off towards the door of the Room of Requirement. He watched her go, frowning slightly, and as she reached for the door handle, he called after her.

"Fawn?"

She turned back. He seemed suddenly smaller, younger, and a little lost, standing alone in front of the fireplace.

"What is it?"

"If you—if I didn't—" He couldn't seem to find the right words. "You wouldn't—" He stopped, frustrated.

"What is it?" she repeated, softer.

"If I—if I did something you didn't like," he began, still hesitant, "would you—I mean—"

"Would I forgive you?"

"Yes. I mean—I suppose. But I meant more that—you wouldn't—I don't know—sever ties with me, or something?"

She frowned at him. "Why would I do that?"

"I don't know. Just—would you?"

She walked back to him, watched him for a long moment. "What brought this on?"

He shrugged.

"Tom?" she prompted.

"Sometimes…" He mumbled the rest, preferring to look past her rather than meet her eyes.

"Sorry, what?"

"Sometimes it feels like we're falling apart," he repeated, louder, forcing himself to look at her. "Like you don't approve of me, and I don't approve of you, and we're just—falling apart."

There was a long silence. Finally, Fawn spoke, her voice quiet and sincere.

"I will always forgive you, Tom. And I will never stop being your friend."

A rather uncomfortable pause followed this pronouncement, during which Fawn fidgeted and Tom nodded awkwardly.

"Right, then," the Slytherin said finally. "Good night."

"Yeah." The Gryffindor nodded, eyes sliding away from her friend. "Good night."

And, after another awkward pause, the two fourth-years parted ways, hurrying back to their separate common rooms with the conversation they had just had running through their heads.

* * *

**A/N: **I hope you enjoyed this chapter. The next chapter is underway, but not so much so that I can give you any sort of details...except that it is likely to have a scene from Tom Riddle Time and will no doubt advance us further into Harry's second year. We may even see Ron and Hermione in it!

Thank you to those of you who have reviewed since I posted the last chapter, and thanks also to everyone who has added _Fawn Silver_ (and other stories) to favorites/alerts! It really means a lot, and often makes my day or encourages me to write more.

Please review? Even just to let me know if you liked the chapter or not, and why?

Yours, as ever,

~DawnFire~


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